A Parliament of Owls

Thanks to a post by Dawn Treader recently, it got me thinking about the owls I own.

When I was a lot younger, I once commented that my husband Greg reminded me of an owl - he wore large metal-rimmed spectacles that were fashionable in the 60s and 70s (the sort John Lennon used to wear) and was very wise. He was a radio journalist who ended up in the BBC World Service Newsroom, so was very knowledgeable about all sorts of things to do with politics and world affairs.

Having made this observation, I then found I was inundated with presents of owls by people who needed some clues for what to give me for birthday or Christmas presents or a souvenir from their holiday. Not real owls of course, but china ones, glass ones, fabric ones, vases, mugs, pictures, doorstops, jewellery and keyrings.

Over the decades I have accumulated so many that I have now had to say 'No more, please', as my shelves and walls are groaning with them. If at some stage in the future, I need to downsize my home, I shall be hard-pushed to know what to do with them all.

The collective name for owls is a Parliament. A Parliament of Owls. So here is my 'Parliament' for you to feast your eyes on.

I have even been given socks with owls on