plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose...

I walk between schools on a Monday and pass through Queens Park. The sun was out so I sat chittering by the pond eating my lunch of soup and a sandwich thinking about the new flat I was getting the keys for later that afternoon.
There, around me fanning out from the bench, were lots of birds - pigeons, mallards, mute swans, coots, moorhens, tufted ducks and black headed gulls all trying to act as if they totally weren't bothered whether I shared some of my sandwich with them or not.
After a while they all got the message that I was going to eat it all to myself and off they went to act nonchalant around some other lunch muncher. All except this gull.
As I looked at it I noticed it was molting into a new set of feathers. Superficially changing. And that was all I am about to do.

Everything will be fine, the gull said to me out of the corner of its eye, change is a natural part of living.

For his sage advice he earned himself a cheeky wee bit of crust. He swallowed it whole then flew off calling - a laughing sound really - to all the other birds in the park that he had just hoodwinked some of my lunch off me.

Onwards.