faking it

we chow down at royal host on sunday mornings after our ride into the hills as a way of regaining a little protein and to have a chin wag about the run and upcoming events. mine usually wags less than the rest but it's not for the want of trying. anyway, royal host is one of these road side places with the tall rotating signs, free refills and smiley waitresses which didn't become a part of my local landscape until I was almost old enough to know better.

I was sitting there on sunday and heard something above the conversation that sounded odd. eventually I homed in on bird cry like I was listening to blackbird and hearing paul mccartney warbling away in the background.

pumped in nature is a ghastly characteristic of living in a mega city but one you get used to pretty quickly. actually I remember my first day at work, waiting for my train (in the countryside) and wondering where the birds nest was. for almost every day since (certainly from spring to autumn) I have heard the tweeting although in all honesty it now sounds more like a yamaha doing a pneumatic drill. the royal host sound track threw me a little bit - it almost sounded like the real thing.

little chef was about as close to we ever got to 50's americana eateries with it's calorific breakfasts, gloopy pancake fillings and free lollies. here though, you could mistake a lot of the urban landscape for america were it not so crampt. friendly's, 7-11, big boy, maccy d's, wendy's, KFC. they litter the scenery but at least bring a little bit of colour to the greyness.

I still haven't worked out if the bird sound is to replace nature or frighten it away.....