Butterflies live for only two weeks. That’s a short amount of time to be impossibly beautiful. We went to The Butterfly House near Aberystwyth yesterday to stand in awe of them. And sit too it turned out, since my grandmother and I bagged two excellent chairs.
We watched the crowds file through for hours. Chloe and Delph went round systematically encouraging each type of butterfly onto their hands. This was helped by sugar water, left out in bowls for people to dip their fingers into. The butterflies sit more readily on people if they can lick the sugar water off. For our guys it was on their fingers, hands, wider hand area and all up their arms. Oh yes, the butterflies were theirs.
Delph wasn’t as good at persuading the butterflies to sit on her hand as Chloe was though. For this I can see Chloe has inherited the family stalking gene. Proud moment. This was because there was a specific way of persuading the butterflies into her hand without scaring them. After forty gos, Chloe nailed it. She presented each butterfly to me and checked the guide I’d purchased for a pound extra. The pound extra was noted – because the admission charge was a little eye-watering. No local rate. No disabled carer’s concession either. Am a I complaining – for the sake of hanging out with butterflies? Mental note, ‘We are staying here for some time. Maybe until they close. Maybe after closing time.’