Monday, 12 December 2011

Diary of a Madman. Ozzy sang that didn't he?


Sunday morning.

5:25 a.m.
Downstairs making a coffee.
Drank said coffee. Felt somewhat better than I had done 5 minutes previous after the previous night's 8 Ace.
Got ready. Got scope and bins at the ready. Got van keys at the ready so I could pick up big work coat for warmth from it. The van is parked around the corner.
The Secret Twitcher picks me up and we set off towards the Humber bridge.
Forgot to pick up big work coat from the van.
Arrived at Cley.
Saw a Western Sand. It is one. Honest.
Western Sand goes to sleep. Continued watching it sleep. Looked at it's feathers and that.
Dunlin walks in front of Western Sand and stops. Dunlin goes to sleep.
Golden Plover walks in front of Dunlin that is in front of Western Sand and stops. Golden Plover goes to sleep.
another Dunlin walks in front of Golden Plover that is in front of Dunlin that is in front of Western Sand.
Western Sand is no longer visible, rufous scaps and all.
Dunlin no.2 moves.
Golden Plover moves.
Dunlin no.1 moves.
Western Sand wakes up. Has a preen with it's big fuck off decurved, fine tipped beak. Wanders around for a bit. Has a piss. Goes right and I lose it. Not as in 'go mental' I just lost sight of it.
Secret suggests that we 'go round there' which I took to mean 'go around to Coastguards for a look for Little Auk'. I didn't know that the Western Sand had flown towards Simmond's scrape. I went along with the suggestion. Maybe in hindsight Secret was suggesting that we 'go round to Simmonds'.
Arrived at Coastguards. Saw Red Necked Grebe. And 2 Red Throats. A man told me that I must be hard as I had no gloves on. I punched him splintering his teeth.
Agreed to go back for a second look at the Western.
Arrived at a hide that was dedicated to the memory of Colin Mayo. 'I bet he was saucy' I said. This was my best joke of the day yet Secret didn't even hear it. And it is, clearly, a brilliant joke.
No further sign of the Western. A couple of White Fronts. A Water Pipit. Set off home.
A pheasant walks into the road very stupidly. It was trying to get out of our path when Secret SWERVED VIOLENTLY and DELIBERATELY ran the poor defenceless bird over with 1.2 tonnes of metal travelling at 60mph. What a mean bastard.
Arrived home.
'Eight Ace'.
Realised that eight Ace was not going to be enough for the night's drinking.
'Eight Ace'.
20:00 perhaps?
Really fucking drunk. Finally managed to make the word 'minges' legal on Birdforum on the Western Sand thread. You are now allowed to use the word 'minges' on Birdforum without fear of reprisal.
Passed out with my face landing in a curry so hot that it could revive Secret's poor DEAD pheasant with one spoonful.

Great day out. Good to finally meet Mr Secret. And of course he didn't really mean to KILL that tiny bald beautiful baby bald pheasant.


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