Mountain & Bird

It's 0700 hrs Greek time and I've been up an hour celebrating absence of hangover.

I climb to the guest room to check email and the morning looks so good I decide to fire off a memento snap of Mount Pantokrator for my bonnie Spitfire over the ocean.

Damn the Panto' is looking inviting. I might even pack a picnic and head up around Perithia and to hell with the toe cassé.

As I click the shutter I'm thinking

"My gal is gonna love this one. Wait til she cops an eyeful of- what the?"

Across the view finder glides this ... something ... and when I download it, I see it was a ... whacking great Mutha Oiseau.

And lo! Its wingtip is dead on the summit, as if to say,

"Here, asshole. This is where you climb to."

It gets worse: as I excitedly shove Picasa into email mode to send it to my babe, the Nokia burbles and vibrates and it's La Spitfeuer, 2100hrs PST, texting her old man with another Bible's length communiqué so favoured by that Fruit of my Loins:

"Yo dad! Wassup?"

Hey, I'm only telling it how it is. Blame it on Ερμής, you don't believe me.