As part of this year's York Literature Festival, I've been leading workshops on the Holy Trinity Micklegate Bestiary, and launched the first 'new fable' competition. Since I can't upload files, I'll paste one of my own 'new fables' below. Forgive the lack of paragraphs: I'd be editing it till tomorrow!

While I can't load photos, look at the Anfivena in the ABERDEEN Bestiary.

CONCENTRATION - A STORY OF THE AMPHISBAENA.

The mother amphisbaena was guarding the eggs and keeping them warm. No matter whether you think an amphisbaena is more like a worm, snake, dragon or just a farmyard hen, all those creatures lay eggs, so I'm sure the amphisbaena does too. - A very practical way of conducting family life. Father amphisbaena arrived, bringing a thick pile of leaves for her lunch. 'Listen,' said mum, 'I can hear the children.' 'What do you mean?' said dad. 'Have they hatched at last?' He looked round. 'I can't see them anywhere.' 'No,' said mum. 'Come and listen.' She bent down close to the eggs. Dad came and listened beside her. From inside the eggs came gentle chattering and whistling noises. Mum and dad looked at each other and smiled proudly. Dad did not want to go far away for the rest of the afternoon. He took turns guarding the eggs, while mum strode off to stretch her legs, but she never went far, and came back very quickly. At night, they perched on the eggs together, too excited to sleep for long. The babies seemed to sleep: only occasional chirrups and chattering were heard from inside the eggs. By morning the chattering was louder, and continuous. The parents listened proudly, hoping to hear the chicks tapping to break their way out of the shells, but the chattering and chirruping just got louder. Mum bent down and listened. 'They're fighting,' she said angrily. 'Would you believe it! They're not even born yet and they're fighting already!' Dad bent down and listened. Inside the eggs he could hear little voices saying: 'No, my end! I'm going to tap. How can I turn round? It has to be my end!' Occasionally an egg would shake with a tiny tap, too feeble to be any use. 'What are they wasting time for?' he thought. 'If they don't get out soon they'll starve.' He walked around in circles, thinking hard. Finally he strode back to the eggs. He bent close to the middle of the clutch. 'All of you stop talking,' he commanded firmly. 'Hatching is too important for you to waste any more time arguing. What you each have to do is both face the same way. Then you can tap together.' There was an outbreak of chattering as the children complained it was impossible. A few of the eggs started to wobble. 'Stay quiet,' ordered their father, 'and listen carefully. There are two ways to do this. The longest neck can wind round a bit further, so that you are looking under your body, and facing the same way as your other head; or the shortest neck can wind back a bit, till it is looking under the body. If one is over and one is under, you'll both be looking in the same direction. Try it.' Mostly there was silence while the little ones wound themselves tighter or slacker till both heads faced the same end. Then the tapping started, and soon the ground was covered in broken shells, and the little amphisbaenae were running around, chattering, flapping their stubby wings to dry their scales and their fluff. 'Do you think there'll be this problem every year,' dad asked mum. 'I suppose we were just the same,' she said. Moral: If you are always in two minds, you won't get much done.