'It's only a cardboard box! I'm sure both ends are the same. They're not that sophisticated.'

'That's the bottom. Why don't you open the top?'

'It's taped; that's what the problem is.'

'I'm sure the other end will open more easily.'

'Just a minute!' I started pulling at the tape and shaking the box.

Something happened. There was a plop, a sn.i.g.g.e.r from the twitchers and the box suddenly felt lighter.

Tori was annoyed. 'Brilliant. It's come out of the top and straight into the pond.'

Lesson one: open the box at the right end. 'Well, don't just stand there. Get it out! It's only shallow.' After twenty minutes of topless sloshing around in the surprisingly deep water of the lagoon, I retrieved the tripod, which fortunately was hermetically wrapped in stout polythene.

'That's not a bad catch. They normally only come out at night,' said a pa.s.ser-by.

'I thought you was leech-gathering,' smirked another.

Now, tripods are straightforward, aren't they? Extendable legs make them compact and easy to carry. The three legs have two extensions that telescope out on the release of two clips. 'Well, there's one leg done!' I said, standing the tripod up and watching it instantly collapse and fall over.

Lesson two: remember to relock the clips to stop the extensions sliding back inside the main leg.

The tripod was retrieved from the water again and we made a new attempt at getting it to stand up on its own.

'It still keeps falling over,' Tori said with a pained expression.

'Well just extend one bit at a time.'

'That's what I did!'

'But it has to be the same extension. There's no use you extending the bottom extension on one leg while I'm extending the middle section on another leg. That won't work!'

Lesson three: only extend each leg the same amount at a time.

Eventually our new tripod was erect and solid as a rock. In the event, it had only taken us an hour and five minutes to put it up and a lot of that time was taken up fishing around at the bottom of a lake trying to find it.

'Finally got it up then?' asked the same sarky twitcher who had pa.s.sed an hour earlier, no doubt having done some top-notch, record-breaking bird spotting.

'Oh, well spotted,' I said as disdainfully as I could manage.

'Are you new to birdwatching, then?' This guy was getting on nerves I didn't know I had.

'Not that it's any of your f.u.c.king business,' I started.

'Don't start!' hissed Tori.

'We're actually doing market research for Which Tripod? Which Tripod? magazine. We're testing various models in the field to see which ones are most user-friendly.' magazine. We're testing various models in the field to see which ones are most user-friendly.'

'Alright, didn't mean to annoy you,' the annoying man went on. 'It's just that if you are are birdwatching, you're going to need something to put on top of that tripod.' birdwatching, you're going to need something to put on top of that tripod.'

I looked at the tripod. I looked at Tori. I looked back at the annoying bloke.

'Sorry?'

'Well, some binoculars; a spotter; or a telescope.'

It was a bad-tempered trudge back to the car.

'I a.s.sumed you had brought the spotting-scope with you!' I snapped.

Tori snapped back, 'You were the one who announced, 'I'll get the gear out of the boot.''

'Well, I a.s.sumed everything would be in the same box.'

'Why?' She tutted. 'They are two completely separate items. They wouldn't fit in one box anyway.'

'Oh, I see; so when you saw me only carrying one box you didn't think to say, 'Darling, that's just the tripod, why don't you bring the spotting-scope, as well?''

'I wasn't really paying attention to what you were bringing out of the car. I a.s.sumed you knew what you were doing!'

Deep breaths all round. 'Well, why did you a.s.sume that?'

'Because of something you said, which was, I think: 'Don't fuss, dear, I know what I'm doing.''

We were back at the car. We had walked quickly and I was now annoyed and hot; the cold water dribbling from the twice-submerged tripod on my shoulder was welcome.

'Look, let's not spoil the day bickering,' Tori said soothingly, as she opened the boot. 'Let's start the day again. At least we now know how to set the tripod up; we'll just get the sporting-scope and go back and pretend none of this happened.'

'You are lovely,' I said and gave her the kiss of peace.

'Where is it?' she said, pointing into the empty boot.

'What?'

'The spotting-scope.'

'I don't know. What's it got to do with me?' I said guiltily.

'I left the tripod and scope in the hall by the front door. You said, 'I'll put the gear in the car.''

'Yes, but you didn't tell me both boxes were required.'

'I didn't think I needed to tell you; I thought it was obvious,' she said, trying to make it seem as if it was my fault.

'Oh, so it's my fault, is it?'

'Yes.'

'I don't recall you saying, 'Have you put both boxes, i.e. the tripod and the spotting-scope, in the boot, darling?''

She tutted a tut for Britain. 'No, but I did say, 'Have you put the gear in the boot, darling?' and you said, 'Of course, I have!' so definitely and confidently that I didn't dare ask for an inventory of said gear.'

'Right, that's it. Get in the car.' I slammed the boot shut, got in the car and started the engine.

'Where are we going?'

'Well, as it's my fault, I thought I'd better drive the seventy-five miles back home to collect the spotting-scope!'

'Not really?'

'You don't have to come, as it's my fault-you can go to the visitors' centre and look at the next generation of spotting equipment that we'll have to get when our own becomes obsolete.'

'Or lost at the bottom of a lake!' Tori quipped, and I smiled.

'No, I'm not really driving home, but I know somewhere we can go that could make the day. And it doesn't matter if we haven't got the spotting-scope.'

Half an hour later: the day of birdwatching had been saved. Tori and I were friends again and we found ourselves just feet away from a pair of rare, secretive birds. Woodc.o.c.k.

'Fantastically hard to see, you know. The cryptic camouflage is so accurate. Amazing plumage; looks like a pile of dead leaves but still manages to be beautiful,' I whispered.

'Not that we'll see the feathers today,' Tori said as the waiter approached.

'And who's having the woodc.o.c.k?'

THERE YOU ARE, DANNY!.

I lay in bed staring through tired eyes at the rotating ceiling. I thought hard. lay in bed staring through tired eyes at the rotating ceiling. I thought hard.

I'd gone to the Imperial Arms to persuade Danny to stop drinking and go home for an early night so we could get up at four for birdwatching. Danny wasn't there and I'd ended up getting drunk and...

Here the memory became a bit ragged at the edges. Did I have a fight with Tony Zanetti? I looked at the clock. 08.30. Oh dear. So we didn't go birdwatching then?

And it was my fault.

I soon became aware of daylight behind the curtains and a fabulous smell of freshly ground coffee. And toast. Heaven. Yes, if I died and went to heaven and found that it was nothing more than waking up with a hangover and having fresh coffee and toast, I wouldn't complain to G.o.d.

'Coffee, sweetheart?' It was lovely Tori.

I smiled. She stroked my face and whispered, 'Late-night drinking and birdwatching don't go together!'

'Have I died and gone to heaven?' I asked.

'Yes,' she said comfortingly.

'All well,' I sighed, 'show me to a.r.s.ene Wenger's throne, then.'

I heard a match being struck and smelled its acrid smoke. I heard somebody inhale and breathe out wheezily. I smelled cigarette smoke and knew that the next voice I heard would be Danny's.

'You OK, mate?'

'Danny saved your life last night, you know.' Tori sounded annoyed now.

'Well, that's not strictly true,' Danny interrupted. 'I suddenly remembered I'd left my car at the Imperial a few nights ago. And, obviously, I'd need it to drive us up to the coast this morning. So I thought I'd wander over to collect it. When I got to the pub, that t.w.a.t Zanetti was staggering about outside just as you were leaving the bar. The a.r.s.e looked as if he was about to jump on you so I grabbed him and got a couple of the boys from the pub to help me 'neutralize' him.'

'Cheers, mate.' I reached out and shook Danny's hand.

'Then I dropped you back here. Course I realized the twitching was out the window.'

'You're a mensch, as Kramer would say.'

'Don't worry, mate,' Danny went on. 'Plenty more days for the d.i.c.kybirds!'

'Right, come on then. Breakfast,' Tori said as she stood up. She turned to me and beamed sunnily. 'Hey, some good news, though.'

'What?'

'That's fifty quid you owe me.'

BIRDS ON TELEVISION.

Birds and birdwatching on television are very different to birds and birdwatching in real life. I have watched David Attenborough's Life of Birds Life of Birds dozens of times. It's a breathtaking piece of work. In one episode there is wonderful footage of a goshawk. Goshawk is dozens of times. It's a breathtaking piece of work. In one episode there is wonderful footage of a goshawk. Goshawk is Accipiter gentilis Accipiter gentilis. It is a stunning bird. A powerful, awesome predator of woodlands. Dark grey-brown above and an unmistakable whitish breast with fine grey barring. Its broad wings with rounded edges and its long rounded tail mean it can fly fast through woodland, retracting its wings to dodge and weave with breathtaking precision though dense trees. It feeds on other birds, rabbits and squirrels, using speed and stealth as its weapons. If it doesn't catch its prey on the swoop, then it can land on the ground where its long legs make it a formidable runner. All this you can see in exquisite detail on David Attenborough's Life of Birds Life of Birds, in the episode called 'The Meat-eaters'.

Real life, I warn you, is very different. My experience of spotting a goshawk bears no comparison. Tori and I were staying in Ross-on-Wye. The huge Forest of Dean was minutes away and at that time of year, early March, there was guaranteed very good birdwatching. The loud whisper in the Goodrich Arms was that the goshawks were up and superb sightings were a foregone conclusion. All you had to do was go to a viewing point called New Fancy, point your binoculars to the east and your object lens would be rammed with goshawks.

Four freezing hours we waited on the viewing platform with half-a-dozen doughty twitchers.

'Never seen a goshawk before?' They looked shocked, as if you'd said something world-shattering like, 'I've never seen the 'chandelier' episode of Only Fools and Horses Only Fools and Horses.'

Then, eventually, a jolly, red-faced man with a greyish beard shouted something barely intelligible and jabbed a ringer towards the distant horizon.

'Look, there it is! It's up! Wow. It's the female. She's big. Awesome. Look at that!'

With freezing fingers trying to steady the binoculars and pull focus, we eventually saw it. For a full two seconds, a small dot disappearing rapidly from the white horizon into the dark canopy of conifers.

'Wonderful.'

'What a great spot!' was the general view.

What a tiny spot, I thought.

'Magnificent,' the twitchers agreed, shaking hands and all but opening a bottle of champagne.