As with most days, I water the plants. The only difference now is that I was helping myself to some chocolates. So that's me watering the plants with my left hand, and several squares of Cadbury's finest in my right, its ends already marked with littles waves arond the edges.
Then, suddenly, as the chocolate slowly slithered its way down my oesophagus, I noticed. A flower. Not just a flower, but a flower that is blooming in the middle of a plant. In all that time it has done nothing more than to shine brightly a tonal shade of green.
Now it has one flower.
I couldn't believe it. I must have watered that plant for years, and nothing ever happens. And now there it is: a lonely, crimson stalk jutting out amongst a sea of lowly green.
And just to complete the picture, a small bird suddenly stopped, perching itself on the wooden gate of my house. It chirped shrilly, reminding me of Flitwick in Pocahontas.
I packed up and went inside.