Seagulls and cider

It started out as a long day. After wearing out the family at the aquarium and getting talked into buying two stuffed axolotls, I tried to herd them toward a pub so I could have a pint while they ate burgers, but they stampeded toward a shawarma shop, instead. Two bums were trying to wheedle free baklava from the cook, and we had to wait 20 minutes while he tossed them out and dealt with the situation before firing up the grills. It was a long wait for mediocre food, and I felt resigned about missing out on the pub.

That evening, Mike texted to ask if we wanted to go to an RSCDS dance after he finished his homework. The family said no, they were tired, and my mother reminded me that I didn’t have a skirt to meet the dress code, so I couldn’t dance, either. I offered to meet him early for a pint, instead.

We met up and walked into town, heading down a side street toward the St Andrews Brewing Company. I pointed at the shawarma place that had derailed my earlier plans, heard a flapping sound, and looked up to see that a seagull had become tangled in a net on the roof of the building. It was panicking, getting more and more wrapped up, and a bit of its wing was bleeding. We told a shopkeeper, who did not care. A customer laughed and came out to take a picture of it. We were trying to contact the SPCA when a cabbie leaned out of his car and said, “Call the fire brigade! They get cats out of trees, do they not? Dial 999!”

So we called the fire brigade. 

They asked us to stay on site to direct them to the bird, and when the truck pulled up with sirens, I put my face in my hands and started laughing in embarrassment. I just wanted a pint.

The entire street came out to take pictures. The sky filled with screaming seagulls shooting ribbons of poop. The fireman climbed the ladder, shoved a canvas bag over the gull’s head, cut the net, wadded the bird up in one hand with its legs sticking up ridiculously, and climbed down the ladder with his other hand. Everyone clapped. We ran for it before they could give us a mangled seagull as a reward.

At the brewery, we sat and ordered some lagers before realizing there was an elderflower cider on tap. Holy shit, you guys. Thistly Cross elderflower cider is the best drink I have ever had in my life. I want to stuff my suitcase with as many bottles as customs will let me get away with, if I can find any in the shops. 

A QUEST

Afterwards, we ran through the cold rain with chattering teeth to the dance hall in an old historic building by the church. It was packed with people dancing reels and jigs to live music.

I intended to drop him off and leave, but Mike’s tutor got hold of our arms and pushed us out onto the dance floor. I was the only one in jeans and had three drinks in me, but my feet remembered how to do the thing. The music was loud, the floor was springy, and people were spinning everywhere. Traditional Scottish dance attracts an older crowd, but they can move.

After two dances, I made my exit. Mike let me out a side door and kissed me in the rain.

Walking the 2 miles back to the apartments, warm from cider and dancing, I realized I was having another of the happiest moments of my adult life. So I took a picture.

Never coming home. Sorry, boss.