As I walk down the street I know I’m being admired; sense someone’s eyes following my every step. Attracted by my new look perhaps?
While appreciating my renovated reflection in a shop window I see my admirer approach from behind, landing bulls-eye centre on top of my head.
The pigeon’s face is smug as it flaps its feathers, clinging on by a clawful of curls with its fat little feet, settled and ready to roost…in a ready-made nest.