Out on the mudflat, mulling over mudthings. The tide is about to turn. Hitch up your pants now.
Imperial walkers, massing at the border.
P.S. to Earl: The night-herons are still around, apparently, but we couldn't find any.
I've got some time off next month and it might be a good opportunity to pay another visit. Perhaps the night-herons will be showing off by then?
Perhaps. I think they are resident there (the farthest north known wintering spot, I recall reading somewhere). If you go back, look for John, a grey-haired Billy Connelly with a Yorkshire accent. He'll probably be able to tell you where to look.
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