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64 years old and I've never learnt to be normal. My parents were eminent ornithologists, specialising in weaver birds. A childhood spent in Namibia, catching fireflies on my tongue, lounging like a pride of clouds and rolling like a hippo in mud are my happiest memories. Inherited enough to pursue a career in millinery. Then the pandemic hit and I shed my flamboyance to push trolleys and give pills in the home. My partner died and I gave up dreams of a permanent nest. I pecked at the ground for worms, flapped and tried to fly. Had to hitchhike home instead.



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