We don’t have lizards in the UK, so for me, they strongly signify holiday. One of my favourite little pleasures on the odd occasion that I’m away in a warmer part of Europe is spotting the speedy wriggle of a lizard on a wall or across a path. I love how flexible they are, how adept at racing up and down walls even though their feet seem to point in all the wrong directions. There’s something pleasing about their shape: the curve of their tails; the pointyness of their faces; the way their legs look as though they’ve been tacked on as an afterthought. Because we don’t have them here, they seem exotic and fascinating. I become like a child commenting excitedly on every aeroplane she sees when there are lizards about – and partly it’s this childishness they inspire that I enjoy. And then there’s the fact that I only ever see them when I’m relaxed and happy and miles away from thoughts of work or ordinary routine... that’s definitely a part of it.
Monkey by Clive Wesley Dennis