Starlings swoop...

The beginning of sundown in Brighton, on the Equinox, the starlings wheel and spin and dance their crowded ballroom capers, taking the eye along with the shapeshifting mass. Since most of the West Pier has gone, they now swoop and chatter above the other pier, the one with the noise of pinballs, screams from the Ghost Train, the whoops from the helter skelter. A better place to join the human race? I haven't really watched them as avidly before, I wonder if they stay up all night as the longest day approaches?
My friend Rose, who I realise must be 80 in a few days time, says that the secret of retirement is to keep moving...