Now reading this on the motorway made me start to worry a bit. Was I doing the right thing? I mean, I shouldn't be reading this whilst I'm driving.
Not long after, I arrived at Hollingworth Lake and feasted my eyes upon Britain's first twitchable Pied Billed Grebe for about 10 years. It showed very well. Stout little fuckers aren't they?
The journey home was uneventful apart from my phone going off every five minutes. Texts, missed calls, you name it, but I was driving. Whoever it was trying so hard to get in touch will have to wait. I got home, put the kettle on and checked out pictures of the Grebe online. Could still hear my phone going off. Good job I'd left it downstairs because it would be doing my head in by now. Eventually I went to the phone and found 23 missed calls and 18 texts. Who could this be? I pondered. Oh, it's only Nicola, she's wants picking up. After popping for a quick pint, I got there to find her waiting at the hospital doors for me not looking too pleased. She'd only been waiting 3 hours, what's up with her, she had a magazine? I don't know if the operation was a success or not but I told her all about the Grebe she didn't seem interested. Women, eh?
Managed to get this record shot of it.
Then I got this one whilst it was in the rushes.
Then I managed to get this one just as someone pulled it out of the water.