Three green parrots at the Peckham Rye Cafe

I'd heard the rumours of course, that we had parrots living in the park but have never seen them. Until today. We were up the park at ten to eight this morning: me, David, Mac and the dogs while Amelia made us her "speciality" for breakfast.

And there they were. Green, glorious and gorgeous, perching in the cluster of trees by the now defunct paddling pool. A truly amazing sight and sound, the were conversing amongst themselves as I stood staring at them, open mouthed with three hounds running round me and a child leading his father a merry dance on his bike.

"Hm!" said David when I told him - of course, when we went back they were nowhere to be seen. Had I imagined them? I wished I'd imagined (rather than suffered) the gunk masquerading as porridge when I got home. Amelia's still in the kitchen chipping it off the saucepan and David has left for golf moaning that he can't "put one foot in front of the other".

Even the dogs turned their noses up.