Chasing butterflies
At the weekend I took Beanie to a place called Butterfly World,
on the outskirts of Edinburgh, the city where we live. She has been
talking about it ever since. Oh, that feeling of being able to do
something that made her happy. Wonderful. Butterflies (Beanie calls
them 'flies') fluttered overhead in an old greenhouse converted into a
sort of tropical paradise. Followed us, pirouetted, swooped out of nowhere. Beanie stumbled towards them, hands held out in greeting. Trays of oranges hung from the ceiling. Butterfly nosh?
We threw money in a wishing well, inspected carp, goldfish and a
catfish, eyed up iguanas, looked at terrapins and had a quick look at the reptile and creepy crawly section in a room at the back.
Being there made my skin crawl. But Beanie and I both loved Butterfly World.
Something alarmed me, though, as I bought my ticket. Sellotaped to the
counter was an advert. It read: "For sale. A large python. £40 ono.
Friendly and easy to manage."
Posted
11 March 2008 14:07