The Crow And The Short Fat Woman

It was a bloody big bird.

And I'm sure it was smiling at me. The kind of smile that could only have been the bird equivalent of "Heeeeeeeeere's Johnny"!

Yesterday I pulled onto the car park of the The Harvester pub in Penarth and parked near the entrance at the grass verge.  The crow appeared, as if from nowhere, and perched itself on the bonnet of my car.

It cocked it's head and peered at me.

And it smiled!

I was at least fifteen minutes too early to visit my next client (and let me tell you, this client doesn't do early!) so I had intended to just wait in the car and do a few sudoku puzzles.

But the crow landed and a staring match ensued.

It didn't take it's beady black eyes off  me.

Once or twice it partially unfurled it's wings or puffed-up it's feathers against the cold, but it's eyes never left mine.

This crow was a natural for a starring role in any re-make of Hitchcock's The Birds!

Eventually though, I had to get out. My client was waiting.  I expected the crow to fly off, but no!

It just stood there, spread his (or her) wings and said "Caw"!

I slammed the car door closed and looked at the crow. It hadn't moved.

"Think you're tough? Think you can scare me?" I asked the bird.

A voice behind me said "Are you f***ing talking to me?"

I turned and there, hands on hips, stood a short but incredibly fat woman.  She held a rather large brown handbag that she looked ready to swing.

"I was talking to the damned crow" I said, turning to indicate the bird.

It was gone!

"F***ing weirdo! she snapped as she waddled off.

Damned bird!