and on the urban nature table today

are you sitting comfortably children? today we have some blossom! alas not a sprig from a tree. . . but a growing pile, swept by the soft winds of April into the corners of gutters, of tiny dried up petals

despite this, the petals are very pretty, so as to distinguish themselves from and not to be confused with the growing piles of ash. . .

(possibly volcanic, but I'm not an expert)

and adding some colour, we have a few screwed up and discarded parking tickets

(not mine, children, you'll be pleased to know -
seeing as I don't have a car and thus am not subject to ticketing)

but of most interest today, and I'd like your help with this if any of you are keen oologists: an egg! well, not quite an egg, as I'll explain...

but first I'd like your help please, in identifying the egg. . . yes, Kenneth, I know you are a twitterer, but that's not quite the same thing is it? now - what I'd like to know is, does anyone have their copy of The Observer's Book of Bird Eggs in their desk? for that would be of great help

you see, I have looked and looked thru all the encyclopedias in the library, but I cannot find a picture of the egg I am trying to identity. . . it is quite small, about an inch long, no, David, I do not know what that is in the new fandangled metric system, but I suppose it would be very helpful if you could tell us, and the shell is pure white - a kind of blue-white, without actually being blue, and there are no spots or other kinds of identifying marks on the egg

and the reason I only have the shell, as opposed to the whole egg, is because last night one of the cats must have brought it into the house, yes, Melanie, that does mean that the cat found the egg in a nest in a tree of one of the gardens up the street and carried it carefully in its mouth all the way back - including jumping up to the roof of my kitchen and then down into the courtyard and in thru the catflap, I know, cats are pretty clever aren't they, and then left it as a gift for me on the rug in the breakfast room. . .

. . .where, unfortunately, one of my children stepped on it, I know Jospeh, it's not what you expect to find on the rug in the breakfast room, is it, and no, Christopher, I suppose she wasn't looking where she was going as she didn't really need to because usually there aren't eggs left on the floor, are they, and yes her brothers did laugh when she squealed about having trodden on an egg and yes I did say that she couldn't have trodden on an egg because as far as I was concerned there weren't any eggs in the house. . .

yes Melanie, it is storytime now - and I have the perfect tale for today. . . are you sitting comfortably? then I'll begin