Last year, around summertime, I fixed on the idea that 2014 would be my year to see a Kingfisher again. Cheesy? Maybe.
I’ve only seen one once before, in childhood. The rarity of the sighting was impressed upon me excitedly.
In 2014, the memory of the Irn Bru glitter ball bird of tiny glory came back to me.
I invented some whimsical folklore in my head that I’d see one again soon, thus meaning that the heavens would be aligned, the cosmos cleansed, and the laundry tamed, etc.
So, erm, 2015 for sure, right?