I heard him first, a voice from the ground, initially a low growl, developing into pronounced words delivered with depth and conviction. I turned to face the footpath, I saw him shiny and moving ever so slightly, a kind of shake, a kind of shimmy, an invitation to believe. I made a snap decision. I chose to believe in this low growling, shaking, shimming, tinfoil creature. Bang, like a flash in a pan Tug Tug was real, I snapped him with my camera, looked at my watch, turned and ran, I was late for a date. That was Saturday. On Sunday I opened the front door of my teeny tiny apartment, and waiting on the porch was a whole packet of Norwegian Breakfast Biscuits. I have yet to open them, something is telling me I'm better savouring rather than gobbling this delivery.
SUGARBEE XX 27/11/12
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