I was standing on the seafront prom
Lining up a shot of Baba Yaga’s one-legged hut
When beside me a polite lady’s voice asked
Do you wish to know what it is?
I turned to see a white-haired lady, all purples, lilacs and mauves
Yes. Please. I said
There are two, she said, and pointed away to the north
That other I’d missed, I thanked her.
They belong to the Jazz Club, she said
I eyed her, but let her continue
That to the south is where visiting jazz players lodge the night
I squished my face, I now didn’t believe her.
And the one to the north?
She chuckled, and said, that’s for their crew
I laughed along with her
In truth, she admitted, they’re kittiwake hotels.
[True story
Kittiwakes are seasonal visitors to the town. Much apart from the noise from their breeding colonies, they coat the town with their droppings. It’s hoped these two hotels will keep the birds out of town.]
















































