The woman with the floppy hat and yellow facial sunscreen looked at me as if I’d asked her to perform the Gangnam Style in her second-hand underwear. ?+¦?+º?+¦Don’t make such a noise,?+¦?+º?+æ she whispered. ?+¦?+º?+¦We think we’ve got a Levaillant’s Cisticola.?+¦?+º?+æ
I peered over at the other members in her group. Most had the same floppy-hats and were donning binoculars of different sizes, coloured black or military green. ?+¦?+º?+¦You might have a Levaillant’s Cisticola, but I’ve got a date with a cold bottle of sparkling wine,?+¦?+º?+æ I said, flooring the Citro?+¦-ú??n and sending a few Cisticolas, Furry Bummed Cisterians and Blue Hardened Tits – or whatever it is that bird-watchers find intriguing – flapping into the mountains above Plaisir de Merle.
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