by Steve CarterAll the girls in the village think I'm weird but I love that three-legged seagull. Today I made him some tiny leather shoes: one red, one white, one blue. He'd be like a flying Union Jack if he could only get off the ground.
I know they'll most likely get ruined. I made him a waistcoat once, stitched all over with seven hundred miniature crocheted flowers. I found it the next day, torn to shreds and lonely-looking, sodden in a muddy puddle.
As for the purple and yellow paisley scarf I made for him from twine spun from my own hair ... that came back stinking of shellfish and stained in a slightly disconcerting way. I wasn't angry. I simply washed it the next day in the light morning rain shower and then draped it over a lavender bush to dry in midday sunbeams.
People tell me he doesn't care for all my efforts and attention but it's not really my place to question his gratitude or lack of it.
I just do what the voices tell me.