There’s much more to it than turning up
The sun was shining as I bounced my way down the rutted track along the edge of a field. When I reached the old, currently redundant barns where I was due to meet an architect, the sound of the car door closing startled the pigeon feeding on the oilseed rape field next door and the skies filled.
They were as numerous as bees around a hive — hundreds and hundreds of them darting all across the blue overhead. Throughout the meeting with the architect, pigeon flitted back and forth above us, moving between the rape field and the woodland 100m away.
Once the meeting was finished and I was back in the car, I sent a quick WhatsApp to the farmer of the land on which the pigeon were gorging themselves, asking for permission to have a go at
