Glancing out of the drawing room window, I see two pigeons perched on the little ceiling fan in the balcony.
Are they waiting for a joy ride, I wonder?
I have to take a picture of them, but it has to be through the mesh door, (and at a strange angle):
our pigeons are nervous creatures.
I think I'll give them a tiny little spin by quickly switching the fan on and off, but they both fly off immediately.
I silently apologize to them, and promise not to ever do this again.
There was space for one more pigeon: were they waiting?
Are they waiting for a joy ride, I wonder?
I have to take a picture of them, but it has to be through the mesh door, (and at a strange angle):
our pigeons are nervous creatures.
I think I'll give them a tiny little spin by quickly switching the fan on and off, but they both fly off immediately.
I silently apologize to them, and promise not to ever do this again.
There was space for one more pigeon: were they waiting?
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