Chit Chat.

These little fellows are everywhere round St G. darting along walls and scuttling in the grass, fantastic.

Seeing them always makes me recall travelling in Indonesia. We'd seen our share of wildlife, had a couple of close calls with especially big snakes, and in need of some more luxurious R&R decided it was time to visit family to laze around their colonial style house. After a couple of days of substantial lie-ins I thought it best to show my face at breakfast, Richard worked hard and was usually chauffeur driven into town well before we surfaced. Pleased to see me up he asked what I'd like for breakfast, but in the humid heat all I could really manage was toast - an unusual (out there) request, but one he was happy to oblige. We sat chatting, waiting for the toast to pop up, listening to the coffee percolate, but as the seconds passed a new, awful, aroma reached us - a kind of barbecue smell - and just as we noticed the smell we also noticed the toaster - moving in ever weakening little jerks. "Damn it" shouted Richard, "I hope you don't mind chit chat with your toast, they get into everything".

It seemed easier to skip breakfasts after that.