A seagull is not a bat.

So I promised Sr. B that I would blog about this…

Friday night after eating my weight in pork knuckle and mango beer, we decided to take a little walk around the markets at North Rocks.

Mostly just to try and get the food moved from just below our throats via gravity into our stomachs. Wow, I was bloody full! You know when you can’t even burp because there’s no space? That was me. Not that I didn’t drag Sr. B into a boutique chocolatier so I could eyeball their goods…

We stopped by a silent disco and oggled the dorko’s having a boogie with their headphones on. Then I decided I wanted to be one of those dorkos and to Sr. B’s better judgement, he joined me. We had some crapola 80’s doof doof on first, which he particularly liked, I pretended. Then we had “Little L” by Jamiroquai which appealed to both of us so we started grooving, bit of half hearted Bachata.

Followed by a salsa track! Needless to say, handbag went on the ground and we broke out into a frenzy of twists and turns; nearly lost my sandals but enjoyed ourselves anyway!

In high spirits and slightly less full tummies, we headed back to the car.

On the way, we passed a tree full of fruit bats squawking away. We couldn’t quite figure out the sound but a bit like a parrot, I suppose.

Me being in my good mood decided I would like to impersonate one. Try as I might, the closest I could get was a chicken or a seagull. I must admit, I looked like a crazylady – must worse than the silent disco dorkos…

It reminds me of whenever I try to do an accent, it will inevitably sound Jamaican or Indian; or worse, a combination. I cannot do any other accents, period.

Apparently this filters through to the animal world too.

Sr. B thought it was hilarious and thoroughly enjoyed watching me get more and more frustrated at my lack of fruit bat ‘accent’….

Lucky I didn’t force feed him another pork knuckle. hmph!

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