This summer, I bade farewell to my twenties. They were largely squandered, but I think I enjoyed the squandered bits more than the rest, so maybe I ought to re-evaluate some of my definitions.
Of course I got several excellent presents, but one of them has only just arrived. My girlfriend, E, bought me a marginated tortoise, and, once she’d ordered him from the breeder up in Hull, we had to wait for the little fellow to hatch.
He turned up last week, delivered by special courier and securely contained in a huge box bearing the legend ‘LIVE REPTILES’. Somehow he had managed to get turned over onto his back in transit, and he took a couple of days to find his equilibrium, but he seems a little more settled now, and is particularly partial to chicory and sunbathing. I am calling him Stanley, after the explorer.
With luck, it’s quite possible that he will outlive me, and adults can apparently reach a length of around 35cm. For now, though, he looks like he might have come out of a Kinder Egg.