On raising back bedroom blind this morning, Wrensong baffled to note, sitting on lowest horizontal, still-bare branch of giant Ash in neighbour's garden - an aubergine coloured pigeon! Calls to hubby: "is it me or is there a purple pigeon in that tree?" Mr Wrensong comes rushing upstairs, peers through window and announces with some authority "I think it's a pheasant!"
Wrensong goes about business of setting up bathroom for ablutions, only to be called back to bedroom a few minutes later, where Mr Wrensong is peering through large binoculars at "pheasant" still sitting in tree. Hands binoculars to Wrensong with patronising look that clearly says "what kind of idiot are you?" Stark-naked & irritated to be delayed from getting into shower, Wrensong takes heavy binoculars ready to balance on nose, but eyes by now less blurry, send clearer message to tiny fluffy brain, which realises before making use of binoculars, that the aubergine pigeon-pheasant is in fact . . .
. . . a lilac blossom poking up from smaller tree beneath Ash. Should have gone to Specsavers.