The island on which we often spend our summer weekends has a special way to warp time. If you look at the buildings, you might think the time has stopped for good already in the 50's. On the other hand the weekends feel like they only last as long as a cup of diced breast of pigeon when it's supper time. My restaurant sponsors only send breasts of pigeon as they clearly rate the wings higher and keep them for themselves. I warn you, restaurant Sxxxx is not the only sponsor available for me!
The human sling amuses us girls by giving some proper sticks flight of their lives. First, we send Stick-tolling retriever Millie after the exhausted stick. Then I plunder the most wanted piece of wood somewhere mid-water and bring it back on dry land. Soon the mentioned branch of Betula pendula somehow is always hijacked by Tove-the-Shredder. In minutes the much fought sample of island's vegetation is put in tiny pieces and is ready to enrich the poor soil again.
