Hidden under cover of night when I checked in, the construction site across the road is now in full swing. I lie in my hotel bed, wide awake. Sunlight chiselling at the curtains’ edges. I check the clock. Frown. Get up. Drag open a curtain. I count twelve new dwellings approaching completion. Labourers call to one another, drown out a radio.
Twelve spacious nests, forty feet up, just one oak tree’s contribution to the vibrant and vociferous local rookery. Two dozen noisy birds guarantee customer requests for rooms with a treeless, car park view.
There’s more than one oak tree.
Twelve spacious nests, forty feet up, just one oak tree’s contribution to the vibrant and vociferous local rookery. Two dozen noisy birds guarantee customer requests for rooms with a treeless, car park view.
There’s more than one oak tree.
