Great excitement here at Fish Towers, after a mere 37 minutes of staring at an empty garden I have finally seen a bird.
OK, to be strictly accurate the garden isn’t empty – there are plants, tubs, a chair and bucket – and air, of course. However, the RSPB have little or no apparent interest in these items – though I’d like to see how their precious birds get on without the air!
To further clarify, I have seen (and indeed heard) other birds – but none within my garden until a lone robin braved my fevered attention and broke my duck (though, apparently, I’m not allowed to count that towards my total either).
Do our feathered friends have a lie-in (perch-in?) on a Sunday? Have they all gone to some sort of avian church and are spurning my godless, rationalist garden? Leaving me with Sawston’s sole atheist robin, the only one who does not fear Horus’ divine retribution.
Is this what fishing is like, I wonder? Taunted by prey you never see, whilst enjoying views of the great outdoors and starting at the stirring of every leaf.
It’s all way too stressful for me, I’m off for a lie-down.