Paignton Pigeon

[smokingboot]

He came crashing through the grass, looking confused, while the cats prowled around without noticing him...that's how stuffed full of food our little hunters are. Dervish finally noticed him when we did, larians catching him by throwing a jumper over him, same as we used to do with the little bats that ended up flying around our kitchen units in Perth Street. We've called him Paignton, after the Paignton Pudding Riot of 1850-something, as revealed on last night's Great British Bake-Off, now having a riot of its own. Paignton can't fly.

At first we thought he was just stunned. After various calls to the RSPCA, we kept him over night. This morning he at least tried to attack his reflection, which gave me hope, but though he can clearly flap his wings,he just falls over when he tries to take to the air. He drank some water but I don't know if he ate.

The RSPCA inspector took him away. I am vaguely paranoid that they'll put him down, and she said that if his wing is broken, there's often very little to be done. They either don't mend or it takes a long time. My response was that if it's a matter of time and medication, I am happy to look after him. We're not ideal nurses, what with four cats, but we'll do our best. I like Paignton.

I also like the Great British Bake Off. There is something very gentle about this amateur baking competition, or there was until last night's episode when one contestant left another contestant's icecream out in the heat. It was a very short lived mistake/crime but it ruined contestant 2's baked alaska, and in terms of social media, is on a par with an earlier season's #custardgate furore. TwitterBritain is up in arms about it, and for a while last night it seemed to be globally trending, leaving the Ukraine, ISIS and Gaza far behind.

I can't work out whether this illustrates our love of humility and fair play, or our sheer ability to go barking mad over nothing.