Friday, January 21, 2011



Six in the morning, I drive into work.

Traffic lights turn red as I approach a pedestrian crossing in the centre of Caversham.

Grudgingly, I hit the brakes and prepare to let this early-bird cross the road.

A fox.

It is a fox, strutting across the road like it owns the place. Strutting across the road and up the stairs to the library.

A library which is closed, maninly because it is a) six in the morning and b) a bank holiday. In your face, Reynard!

I am impressed. Not because you don't usually see foxes that close up unless it is going for your throat. No, urban foxes are becoming an ever more common phenomenon these days. I am impressed for one reason only:

How, in the name of buggery, did it manage to press the button?

Edit: I wrote a poem about it ---

I saw a fox
and it crossed the road
Bugger me sideways
it used the Green Cross Code.
And now it's gone
To teach its cub
All about
The Tufty Club.
In your face John so-called Betjeman.

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