Living in a big city has its downside. In a city there are pigeons. I remember in 2003 there were hardly any, now it is full. And believe me, I know. I have a pigeon phobea, no pigeon passes by without me noticing it. You will hardly ever see me sitting on a terrace for afternoon tea, I will never ever cross a pigeon-inhabited square, and if I come across a bunch of pigeons on the sidewalk I will cross the street if I can.
So you can imagine how I feel now. Pigeons are taking over my neighbourhood. The trees are full of them, they are constantly trying to make their nest in, and thus destroying my little buxus plants. I seem to do be spending my days chasing them, but still, once in wile they manage to lay their egg in between my plants which I then quickly throw out. I put plastic bags that wave in the wind. I put these big colourful flowers that turn. The pigeons sit under it. It is hopeless. They nestle on the window sills and if I don’t close the blinds, the twigs of their nest fall inside onto the floor.
They enter the house.
They are driving me nuts. Completely nuts.