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I am what I am...


Words from a Bird.  Day 56

It's funny how one thing can lead to another.  I have been writing my daily ramblings for almost two months now, and there's not been a day when I haven't known what I am going to write about.  I suppose that this is because my words are simply what I would say to you if you were standing in front of me - they are just an extension of who I am. 

Two days ago, I was approached to have a go at ghost writing a book for someone I don't know.  This was always going to be a challenge, as I feel to be successful, you have to be sincere, and write about what you know.  You have to be true to both yourself and your readers.   However, I am having a go, because if I can do it, then it will be one hell of an achievement. 

Here's the crux of the matter though...I have to write as a man.  Not just any man though.  Oh no....this is a man who has put his life at risk for his country through a couple of wars. The kind of man you see running through a war zone carrying a small child.  A hero.  The nearest I have ever been to being called a hero, was when I rescued an abandoned baby hedgehog from the grass verge in front of our house.  The lovely vet at St Tiggywinkles didn't exactly call me a hero, but I could see in her eyes that she was fairly impressed.  I'd picked him up without gloves for heaven's sake, that takes some nerve... 

So you can see, there is an element of make believe necessary for me to do this man justice.  Metaphorical balls just won't cut it, I have to genuinely believe that I have a pair (interesting thought...).  I also have to convince myself that I can handle a gun, rescue people from burning buildings, grow a beard (that's quite possible actually), enjoy wearing khaki (never a good colour on me) and take orders from someone with a prettier uniform than mine (like that's ever going to happen).

It has been suggested that it might be a good idea for me to meet this man.  I'm not too sure about that.  I can just imagine his 6'4" khaki-clad disappointment as he shakes the trembling hand of a middle aged bird who has a penchant for small dogs and Battenberg cake.  

I can't imagine he'll be impressed...

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