Last week there was a birthday. The birthday involved pancakes and polecats, picnics and porcupines, muffins and marmosets, presents and piglets and a husband another year older. I like his new age, it's a pleasing number, very satisfying. I think he likes it too.
We also saw a raccoon who was terribly pretty, wild cats who were a little scary, a giant pig who was absolutely bloody terrifying, porcupines who were prickly and stripy and invited comparisons to a birthday boy's wife, otters who could have done with a little ritalin, great big huge bunnies the size of adolescent labradors, wee tiny monkeys with funny faces, pygmy crocodiles who really didn't look that pygmy to me, a hedgehog, dormice with furry tails, feisty chickens who liked to escape, a snowy owl or two, lemurs (I really loved them. King Julian is my favourite cartoon character of all time. He may in fact be my spirit animal incarnate) and lots of other fluffy things and furry things and scaly things and winged things and smelly things and noisy things and baby things and grumpy things and friendly things and scary things and things I wanted to steal away and put in my pocket beacuse I'm sure they and The Rabbit would get along just fine and and and and.... aminals galore.
Then we went and ate curry, yummy yummy south Indian curry. Lots of it. And then we came home, sleepy and tired and happy because there had been aminals and presents and food galore.
. images by me, except the last one 'cause he has longer arms