Shortly after moving to a Norfolk village we had chickens and alsorts of animals, word got round we where the Doolittle family, and injured birds and animal found their way to us, courtesy of my ex on his daily walk with the dog.
A baby starling was brought to us by the postman as he didnt know what else to do with it.
We nurtured and fed, and mashed worms and alsorts for its ever open little mouth, it would sit on my shoulder or spend its days following me around.
We where on the point encouraging to fly, and on this particular day had had left him in his box in the kitchen but had failed to close kitchen door.
Poor little thing had decided to practice his skills and flew in to the bathroom, seen the closed window, flew at it, knocked himself out fell into the toilet ( ex never put seat down), and drowned.
Alison Hammond waxwork. Is it a joke?
being a right moany pain in the proverbial