The day started out all brightness. We opened the curtains of our new home in Llandudno, North Wales to find the morning sun turning the Great Orme all gold. Even better, Jane was to be our first visitor since moving in. Jane hadn’t been to the seaside in awhile so we did the typical British thing, bought ice cream cones and headed out to the prom.  Little did we know that a cloud of monster gulls were lurking behind us planning their dive bombing attack. The gulls of Llandudno are famous for their ability to intimidate tourists and nab chips,  but an ice cream cone? Come on!. The gull swept down from behind, yellow eyes trained on the cone just 6 inches off my chest, and ran it through with its beak, never landing a feather on me. It felt like a string had been tied around my ice cream and it had been suddenly, surgically yanked away, a master pick-pocket more than a mugging. It then flew off like the overloaded Spirit of St. Louis struggling to take off on the first trans-Atlantic flight. I stood shocked, hoping that the gull might at least suffer an ice cream sinus headache for its crime. In the end I was impressed with its audacity and the ace flying skill of these kamikaze gulls of Llandudno.