When I was eight I got a set of colouring pencils for my birthday. I have always been a sucker for good stationery and I loved those pencils dearly, not least because of the delicious names the colours had. I remember vermilion, burnt ochre, canary yellow and (my then favourite) green bice. Green bice was outrageously green and I must have overused it in my colouring-in because it quickly wore down to a stub and disappeared.
Wiktionary describes bice green as bright green, like a leaf. Follow that link to see a sample, or instead just look at the new grass in these photos:
We went for a walk in the country this afternoon. Every year I’m boggled afresh by how Burkina’s semi-desert gets so lush so suddenly. One good rain falls on the barren ground and the next day the grass springs up so quickly you can practically see it growing. Earth, which for eight months has been pounded relentlessly by the scorching sun, feels a drop or two of rain and wakes up with a start. ‘I’m alive!’ it seems to cry. ‘Bring on the bice.’
As my wife and I hurried along trying to keep up with Libby our trailblazing toddler, we happened upon a dromedary in the trees. The camel pursed its lips and stared at us for a while – and then turned moodily away. Libby didn’t mind. She’s listened to DEAR ZOO a hundred times so she knows the score when it comes to camels:
I wrote to the zoo to send me a pet. They sent me a camel. It was too grumpy. I sent it back.