Reams of paperwork lie swilled across the table, white against the red cloth. The boy’s future depends upon what I do with it.
A feathered flash of white and black and green darts into the twiggy hedge, and jolts me from the inertia of driving.
Hey-hey! two pebbles today. The first refers to what I've been languishing over all afternoon (the paperwork, not the stone!) and the second is about the amazing little bird I saw earlier, whatever it was. And here's the question...
Why is it, that no matter how clearly you think you saw the bird in question, it never bears any resemblance to any of the pictures in the birdbook?
I've no idea what it was, although a dear friend of mine would say it's the appreciating, and not the knowing, which counts.