Varanus Returns.

I made the last few hundred grams of roast rolled boneleless turkey thighs into a curry. With potato and peas. Something went wrong. It was a disaster. I can put up with most of my culinary mistakes, but this was inedible. it wasnt too much chilli. It was just gritty and bitter. I dont know what I put in too much of to make it so. I salvaged a few of the larger pieces of meat, rinsed them under the tap, and ate them. The rest of the curry I carefully deposited outside where the camp manager won’t see it. but someone special might.

Today I heard a familiar rustling sound. From the door of my caravan I peeked, careful not to disturb him. Or her.

And here (s)he is.

Varanus likes my crappy curry.

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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