The paragon of animals…

and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seeme to say so
—The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark (Act II, Scene ii, 285-300)

I got technically ‘nature-raped’ by a flock of at least 20 seagulls on Ogunquit beach, MA less than 6 Hours ago. I bloody did. Them avians did a rape. More of that in minute.

The poverty of words to describe today’s trip from Hyannis, MA to Portland, MA.  I can’t write it all down. Instead of the heavy lustre of an oil painting that Pookaverse wants to draw in your mind, we have to contend with thumbnails. Here’s the first one – How to wash your clothes at an American Laundromat (Launderettes are for girls – its official):

…put clothes in 70’s twin tub…add inconsequential cleaning agent…ask for 12 quarters to switch the bloody thing on….

But I won’t tell you about the man who called us over to tell us about how to use the tumble dryer. He was originally from High Wycombe less than 18 miles from Aylesbury. He is now a pilot operating from the local airport – with a green card. Won’t move back to England as its too expensive. What are the chances? I mean, come-on you non-fatalist witch-buggerers amongst you? Explain Me!

While the clothes were tumble-drying in the laundromat, we drank coffee. But we won’t tell you that all coffee we have bought in the USA has been served to us ‘conference style’ from push button canisters – not a well-used percolation jug in sight?!?! New campaign slogan for the presidential election “WTF and where’s our Jug”

At 9.30am this morning we sat eating a magnificent breakfast with Christine at our B&B in Centreville, MA. What we won’t tell you is that we told Christine about our room-mate – Ringo Starr – which she fell apart laughing to when I showed her the picture on the LCD screen of my camera.

The fifth seashell – Ringo Starr – live from Hyannis, MA

The drive from Hyannis to Ogunquit was broken by a lonely stop at a forgotten diner near the town of Byfleet – just past Georgetown, MA for anyone of you who needs a point of reference. What Pookaverse won’t tell you is that the Octogenarian who served us had the warmest smile and skin as yellow as the 30-40 butts she must have smoked a day to maintain that beautiful complexion.

The term “Yes we can” may not apply to Byfleet…but long years and a happy life to the old lady who runs the general store there…

Then a ‘Nature-Rape’ occurred at Ogunquit. This is what happened.

Alison and I bought a big fat sandwich at a supermarket in Hyannis. Alison and I drove to Ogunquit Maine. Staggered at the expansive unspoilt beauty of this place we took pictures of this scene – one of which is included in this post.

Then, in the glorious September sunshine we sat as two deciduous souls to suck on our plank-shaped baton….I think I remember what happened next, Yes….I remember biting a corner off the baton that Alison had torn off for me.

One of the nicer memories of Ogunquit – before the rapists turned up..

“Oh, look how close that ONE seagull is”,  I said, “I think after I have finished my sandwich I’ll try the ‘Nature Macro’ Filter on my camera and s-“…within the time it takes to say “Kennebunkport” a flock of at least 20 flapping and intensely aggressive gulls descended upon us. The first one hit me in the back of the head – like having a very heavy pillow fight.

Within seconds, F**kface, as I grew to know him over the next terrifying two minutes,  batted my head and then pecked at my hand so that I would drop my sandwich. For some reason, they left Alison alone as I walked as quickly as possible back from the beach to the relative safety of the car park. Still been buffeted by Gulls left and right. It only stopped because I squatted underneath the front of the hire car – else it would have been a solid seagull gangbang. The locals enjoyed it. One old lush grinned and said “Gotta aeat it quick” in that magnificent Maine drawl. “Where’s the bloody warning sign for that?” I asked. I think he found that funny.

Later, I gathered my tattered sense of human ascendancy and waded in the bone-chilling Atlantic waters with Alison.  Furtively looking at every seagull, now a prominent group that outnumbered the humans 3-1 on the beach.

‘F*ckface’ and ‘Gerraf*ckoffme ‘enjoy a post coital perch on the beach….where….where IT happened

I’m not going to say something banal such as “OOOOhhh it was just like that film made by Alfredo Frog and his Vanilla milkshake.

All the twists and turns from Ogunquit to Kennebunkport. Now that name. Kennebunkport. Where have I heard that name before?

We followed our noses in Kennebunkport. Turning at a junction overlooking the sea, we turned left and not right – because there was a simply stunning cedar-wood clad, clapboard house overlooking the Atlantic coast. Kennebunkport. MMMMmmm. Why is that name so familiar. Round the sublime ‘country’ lanes in tired September Sunshine. we finally pulled over for a view of this stunning coastline in a parking bay crammed with other tourists all pointing their camera’s to a ‘Camelot-by-the-Sea’ . I’m starting to like people from North and South Carolina.

First on the boat to Nantucket Island (Girls? Alison promises you a post by the end of the week as Nantucket Island, and her pictures, are her personal story), a wonderful pensioner who lived just “1 and a half hours from Savannah”.

Then. A friendly gent from North Carolina, with a gentle drawl and kindly manners took our picture. This Camelot is the home of none other than George ‘Double-Yuh’ (Maximum 15 minutes parking in this area) Bush.

George Double-Yuh’s ‘Mansion of the Gods’. The Daedalus-class submarine containing Mike Tyson on Angel Dust was submerged at the time.

It’s now 23:29 EST in a chain hotel, Portland Maine. You will still be in beddy-bo’s. I’m off to mine. Tomorrow, its two hours to explore this rough diamond (it’s a working city’), then off to travel to st Jonsbury, Vermont through the Green Mountain National Park to hopefully arrive in Lebanon, Vermont by Sundown. Go figure.

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7 Responses to “The paragon of animals…”

  1. Thompson Says:

    Oh that’s hilarious about the birds (sorry though about the years of personal shame, trauma and therapy that now must inevitably follow).

    Poor you though – if their squirrels are anything to go by, I imagine the North American gull is much tougher and ‘roided up than our puny version.

  2. Martin Says:

    Violation, gang rape! My God the American Dream isn’t a myth! Now where’s my passport …
    p.s. if you get chance to park up in one of those drive-in cinema things, and can see past all the dancing American teenagers, then Judge Dredds a good watch (he doesn’t take his helmet off!!!)

  3. Rach Says:

    I wish to cancel my subcription to this filth

  4. pookaverse Says:

    Just pay your money and get on the ride with the rest of them xx

  5. jose Says:

    The butterflies in Crewe were a taster for the gulls!

  6. Martin Says:

    My sympathies are with the seagulls, I feel they are the real victims here. You Sir were most definitely ‘asking for it’. Nothing says ‘I want to party’ more to a poor, frustrated avian than a pasty, scantily clad Englishman sitting on a beach sensuously eating phallic baked produce. Shame on you!

  7. pookaverse Says:

    I wish to cancel my subcription to this filth

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