It is a beautiful spring morning.
The Baby has experienced a reasonably good night; I am refreshed and cheerful. I throw the curtains wide, like the bloke in the song.
376483 enormous cameras swing up to fix me in their gaze. I dethrow the curtains hastily.
Stomping downstairs, I find the LTLP making tea. “There are 376483 people outside pointing cameras at me,” I complain. “It must be something to do with the Gribledy-Grob.”
We have a rare Gribledy-Grob bird or suchlike nesting in our tree, which has caused comment amongst the birdwatcher fraternity. So far, I have found them pleasant people if a little eccentric. Len the Fish has explained to me that the bird is there because it likes my berries.
I peek through the kitchen blinds. Most of the berries have been eaten. This is annoying. They have been growing there for years, and I might have needed them some day, e.g. to poison people. I drink my tea, morosely.
The day progresses. The bird flits off after a while, doubtless to eat somebody else’s berries; the immense throng thins out accordingly. I chat to the occasional visitor. Again, they are pleasant and friendly, although they are disappointed to have missed the Gribbledy-Grob. Later on, I tape a sign outside to help them out.
Was it a turtledove? I saw a news report about one being in Oxfordshire last week – perhaps that is where it went after visiting your house.
The Oxfordshire cottage only had 400 people out the front so perhaps the remaining 376083 people were hoping to see the Her Magesty The Queen. (You know what it’s like – as soon as they smell a potential wedding invite all sorts of people come out of the woodwork.)
Two birds with one…. no, can’t do it.
I am intrigued by the effectiveness of the bird-watcher communication network. Do they have lookouts posted in obscure locations all over the country? And if so why are they so much better at their jobs than the unwashed masses of civil servants who are meant to observe and report things?
OR, and personally I think this is far more likely, is it just that there are 376483 people who like to spend their holiday fucking with random strangers? Just in case, I suggest you invest in either a solid, cudgelly type walking stick or a firearm with scatter-shot capability. That way next summer if you get a load of folks milling around the yard and insisting you have a rare form of badger burrowing under the chicken coop you will be prepared.
These entrepreneurial skills are a new side to your personality, Jonny. Perhaps you could have sold some eggs from the chickens or set up an impromptu book stall on the drive.
Now there’s a though, though – would the chickens be amenable to dressing up as rare birds?
obviously the bird watchers are tweeters
The Oxfordshire sighting was on the (Oxfordshire) news again last night. The queue of Twitchers goes all the way out there, on to the road, down there, across there and back up there. They’re obviously completely bonkers.
A pound for a coffee!!! I am robbing myself to do that.
You should have flogged a few books whilst you were at it!
“There are 376483 people outside pointing cameras at me,” I complain. “It must be something to do with the Gribledy-Grob.”
Work that out all by yourself, did you?
That song you reference also includes the line “Heavy like a loaded gun”. Seeing as your narrative makes no reference to pulling on boxers or using the loo prior to the curtain throwing, your choice of lyrics looks less and less appealing by the minute…
you sound very “Dutch” to me…….
You could also get the children to paint colourful spots on the chicken eggs, and sell them as Gribledy-Grob eggs.
I’m with Megan. There is no gribledy-grob, just a sparrow and a load of pranksters.
What impresses me is how you were able to count every single bird-watcher so quickly!
WOW!!
By the way, I used to go bird-watching with a group when I lived in the Caribbean. The folks seemed normal to me but now that I think of it, they were mostly older, English, and other Europeans here and there. Hmmm…
That image of you throwing open your curtains instantly reminded me of the similar moment in “Life of Brian”, with all the keen followers waiting for the Messiah (who was not expecting that!)
The messiah had a gribledy grob taped to the top of his head. Which explains the people looking up at his balcony and following him round. It had perched atop his crown of thorns one day, and Brian became fond of it.
Ron – I’m sorry – your comment got spammed. I have rescued it from the spam thingything.
The thing about Brian is that he was not the Messiah. I am not comparing myself to the Messiah – that is for others to say. But (etc)