Today I took a lovely stroll along the river in the unusally warm sunshine that came with the scorching 8 degrees celsius temperature (46 degrees farenheit, for my American friends).I sat down to unwrap my pb sandwich, folding back the tinfoil and lifting the deliciousness of an American staple food to my mouth when--splat. Splat splat. Three dollops of bird poop landed on the ground directly in front and on the side of me. Delicious.
I looked up. There was a single tree hovering directly over half of my bench, and I was in the middle. So, I scootched over until I was exactly 3 milimeters from the edge of the tree-less half of the bench. And quickly ate my pb sandwich in shoulder-hunched apprehension.
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