Having discovered that I'm just not cut out for the rock'n'roll lifestyle anymore, I retired to my parents' house for some out of town retreat r'n'r of the less strenuous kind. Any further confirmation I sought of my advancing prosaic lifestyle was provided by the excitement I derived from indulging in a bit of garden bird-watching. In particular, was the fact that I spotted a visitor which I'd never seen in my 25 previous years.
"A brambling! A brambling!" I cried in excitement, until my jumping up and down scared him away. But not before I managed to take a rather poor photograph.
It was certainly more noteworthy to my mind than the Ferne Cotton spot the previous week. Dear me.