At the Birdfair

Well, the rain held off for the most part, so we were spared any Glastonbury-style mudbaths, and another Birdfair passed off very pleasantly indeed.

Every year is different, every year’s the same. So, although there’s always something new to catch the eye, what really makes it so enjoyable is that you catch up with people who you don’t see from one year to the next. Where magazine contributors are concerned, for example, it’s always nice to be able to put faces to what are otherwise names at the bottom of an email, while there are always old friends to bump into. And there are birders of all sorts, from the hardcore twitcher right down to the armchair watcher.

Highlights included Sir David Attenborough, who seemed to be every bit as nice as he appears on the TV, closely followed by the wonderfully hospitable Prom Peru stand, who kept a constant stream of Pisco sours coming (it was wintry enough at times that you needed your cockles warming, so strictly medicinal, you see?).

I even met a fellow poet, Sandra MacGregor Hastie, whose company SMH Books publish the excellent Redbreast: The Robin in Life and Literature. Today, it's back to real work. Bah!