I've whined on about how, since my initial November burst of Waxwings, the little sods have eluded me. It got to the stage where my wife and daughters asked me, every time I came into the house, whether or not I'd seen a Waxwing. And each time they looked upon my crestfallen face, with my head shaking in shame and defeat, they felt a little of the hurt themselves. This morning a family outing beckoned - walking boots, anoraks, dog and lead, etc - and as we got in the car my wife asked me if there were any Waxwings nearby. With my bottom lip trembling, I told her that the Frenches Road flock (in Redhill) were still on offer. I had dipped on them in December. "Right!" she declared, "Let's go before our walk!" Result!! This time, on arrival, 35 of the little gems were trilling away without the need for any searching. They trilled, they preened, they flew back and forth between the tall trees on one side of the road and a fully laden apple tree in a back gar...