Hakuna matata script with birds

The swifts found us again at Spalding, three of them at first, then a dozen, wheeling over the big wheel as we bolted the last gondola into place. Mr Pryce says they follow the fair the way gulls follow trawlers, waiting for us to spill something. I told him they were only after the sugar from the candy floss van. He laughed so hard he had to sit down on a crate of spare bulbs.

You'll remember Amani from the coconut stall, who came over from Mombasa to sell tea before he ever sold a single coconut. Last Tuesday the generator died in the rain and the whole midway went dark, and the little ones started crying, and Amani just walked out into the mud with a torch clamped in his teeth and waved his arms at the sky like he was calling hens. Hakuna matata, he kept telling the lads who wanted their money back. No worries. There's nothing to be done about the rain, so why carry it about with you?

I've been turning that over since. Most nights I lie in the caravan listening to the generators and counting the stops left on the circuit, and I hold on to every one of them too hard. Yesterday I watched the birds lift off the wheel and scatter toward the hedgerow all at once, not one of them checking where the others had gone. I think they had the right idea.

The wages came through, and I've sent a bit to Mum. Tell her I'm eating properly, which means chips most days.

Love, Tunde