Everything is a bit of a blur. I'm asleep, or mostly asleep, stumbling around in that pre-cuppa Proustian netherworld, the voice of BBC News and the first of the kettle's wispy whistles vie to pierce the fuzz. Mug of tea, bowl of bran, another mug of tea and then the mobile pings, momentarily glows, returns to dull-faced slumber. Already, the 24 hour rolling news carousel is embarking on another turn of the merry-go-round of the same reporters', intoning the same lines about the same stories. Reaching for the phone, thumb depresses the one non-virtual, square emblazoned, circular button:
"Red-Rumped Swallow from sea-wall Goldcliff!!!!!"
Who found it? When? Still there? Calls, texts, tweets and it's off, the car pointed towards the estuary and right foot down a bit.
Another first for Gwent find for JB,... and county/patch ticks all round. Untrammelled joy.