I was having a walk into town to buy the sort of necessities you never want to be seen with - toilet paper, bleach, a copy of the Daily Mail hidden inside an adult magazine - when my happily attuned eyes noticed a rustling in one of the holly trees in the front of what I still call Lilley and Stone School.
It has some ghastly new "academy" type name now.
Closer inspection revealed a very tatty looking little goldcrest at work on the twigs, never stopping in one place for long, and emitting a little "Eeeeep" whenever it took off again. Occasionally it missed its landing and would hover like a humming bird for a moment, before finding its landing site.
The remarkable thing about the encounter was the bird's complete lack of fear of me. I was astonished when the bird came up to a metre away, my feeling when it settled on a twig 30 centimetres from my face could not be repeated in a public place.
I was certainly all the "Es" myself; entranced, enchanted, and enthralled.
At close range I could see that its beak was stuffed full of spiders and insects, and I'm presuming this worn out looking bird was still looking after nestlings somewhere.
Eventually the goldcrest, striped crown blazing among the shaded leaves left the tree, landed directly between my feet, and then made off to another tree out of my sight. But once again I had had an encounter with nature 5 metres off Newark's busiest road, that few people would have even noticed, but most would have loved.
If only they kept their eyes open more.
All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 28.07.15