SNAILS FOR S

Thought I had my blip in the bag for today, until a breathless phone call from S: Snails, loads of them, on a picnic table.

Hot blip I ducked and dived through the rush hour traffic and arrived at the venue. Snails? My goodness the place was alive with them, or rather it used to be. This was Snail Graveyard. Lined up, empty, fragile shells, caught in the grooves of a picnic table. Like a street of derelict homes waiting for demolition.

RIP Snails.