While I was walking to the boulanger on Sunday morning (I know that sounds poncey and 'look at me, aren't I French' but it happens to be true) I spotted a tiny little baby bird that must have fallen out of a nest and was lying on the pavement dead.

I don't know why, but the idea of this tiny little scrap of life that had been snuffed out almost as soon as it had come into the world really got to me. I like to think that I'm quite prosaic and not really affected by this sort of thing, but it's increasingly not the case. I don't know what's happening. Maybe I'm just getting older, or maybe it's that I'm a parent and have a little scrap of life of my own to look after. Whatever it is, I think it's probably a change for the better.