The Holiday 2: A fairly horrible moment.

Have you ever seen Hitchcock's "The Birds"? I have not, but I can see how the master of suspense is able to make a rather chilling, frightening, and mostly disturbing film about said subject. But, I cannot fathom however, that any one would obtain an irrational fear of birds from watching the film. I know of people (mostly female) that find walking through George Square is a task, due to all the flying birds.

The problem with this fear is that unlike a Tiger, Elephant or a large car, birds are at least 5 times larger than most human beings, and don't really present that much danger to us as a species. They are scavengers, rodents, and very beautiful at times, especially the Peacock, to advance their chances of attracting a mate and Bill Oddie.

My loving companion, the sun worshipper, finds these particular things absolutely terrifying, and can be scared to her wits end by even the slightest chance of attracting the attention of one of these birds, and actively becomes very sweaty, edgy, and to the point of absurdity, even physically violent to anyone who derides her of this fear.

On our trip to Venice, we assembled in Per San Marco, which apart from having a truly gracious and well positioned name, is home to approximately 3000 pigeons, something that it is very famous for.

At this point we shall leave the point of this post and go wildly off at a tangent. Who the hell decided it was a good idea to build a bunch of building that would become a large city on a series of sand banks. They tried to build on it, noticed it was impossible and actually circumvented the problem by drilling millions of trees into the ground to build their buildings on. What a waste of effort! Just move across the beaches, to the mainland, and build a city that does not flood every day during the autumn, one that in 40 years will not be under 50ft of water.

That said, it really is quite quaint, beautiful, and charming. As an engineer, I can see past all that, and note that the Italians, and more specifically the Venetians were barking mad, and deserve the large burden of a few billion € that is costing to build a massive wall to protect the city from the water. The task it like trying to save an ice cube from the cold. (Thanks Modest Mouse).

Back on track, Hazel believes that these pigeons have one thing on their mind;

KILL ALL THE HUMANS!

This is wildly inaccurate. When you realise they do not have conscious thought you realise the in affect these birds will have.

The very next day we were sitting in the poolside bar having lunch, when I glanced upon the resident seagull. It was just hanging about, casing the joint for food. Only after a few moments did I actually see the bird, and noticed it had no beak. Instead, there was a sort of area of space occupied by nothing other than not beak. Its mouth area was charred, blackened and ripped to shreds. This was rather unsettling, and promptly caused to burst in laughter at the the horrible and comical sight, but also recoil in revulsion at this animal's suffering. I added that there just so you don't think of me as a callous bastard.

Hazel, on the other hand, thought of it her worst nightmare. I pointed out it would only be able to lick her face, which caused her more suffering. Saddeningly a couple tried to feed the poor thing, but having no mouth is sort of licked it, pushed it about a bit, and looked at the couple apologetically. "Sorry, I understand your sentiments, but I have no mouth you see, so this might be a little tricky." Imagine trying to eat a slice of toast with no arms and no jaw.

It was pretty harrowing, funny by the nature of Hazels worry for its presence. She was jumping about in her seat, trying to "avoid its gaze in case it sees me and wants to come next to me", and asking "Where is It!?", and generally making quite a scene of her self, much to my sadistic enjoyment. I tried to console her by explaining it had been reduced to a effective flying dog, but this worried her even more.

Other couples saw this, and were understandably worried, but none of us tried to put the poor bird of it's misery, we were too worried about the seagull.

On a nicer note, who wrote "The Birds"?