Alun Newman: Patience equals birds

I’m finally tired of watching the Home Alone franchise. My human form could no longer cope with a compulsion to eat sausage rolls and crisps at any time of day. It has to come to a logical stop at some stage. It’s the only holiday I have where it feels like every day is someone’s birthday.

If anyone says, do you fancy a drink/nibbles/film/pub/sausages, it doesn’t matter what, the answer is always something like, “Go on then…”, said in a way that suggests your arm has been twisted for a tenth of a second.

To conclude our festivities, we turned a surplus of food into a random buffet with the oddest combination; battered prawns, tiny pizzas, savoury scones (what?) and out-of-date dips etc.

Once you’re back at work it can instantly feel like you need another holiday. January can feel like a stretch. Out into the fresh air I plod, down to a canal or river near where I live. It’s not particularly long, but it’s a pleasant enough walk. I mooch along with my headphones on when I come across some birdwatchers by the water's edge. About three of them are all gazing in my direction. I assume they recognise me and are in a state of shock that it’s Alun Newman from BBC Radio Solent’s Breakfast Show.

I’m mistaken. They’re frozen, staring past me. I slow my pace, edge alongside them and whisper, “What am I missing?” The lead birdwatcher advises me there’s a pair of male kingfishers perched silently on a nearby tree. I look intently and see nothing, so I decide to wait. One of the twitchers has a camera with an enormous lens pointed helpfully in the general direction.

I’m gripped. Beyond the retail pleasure of Christmas, Mother Nature was about to show what wonders you can get free of charge. We waited and waited. I was still none the wiser. In true British fashion more people joined the waiting. If you see a queue in this country, it is culturally acceptable to join it, unquestioningly.

There must have been 20 of us by the time BBC Winter Bird Watch was delivered. A flash of brilliant, shiny, glossy blue darted from the tree and plunged into the water. Once the show started, the pair were relentless in their pursuit of food. It was an absolute marvel. A genuine moment in time. Beautiful.

I resisted doing my Sir David Attenborough impression. It was not my time to shine. During the display I took some stunning images. As you would expect, working for the BBC. When I got back, I had seven really interesting photos of either a finger, a hand, a glove, or a tree with nothing in it. Still, it was worth every moment.