I finally saw it. It’s taken several meanderings after dark: I’d never realised how difficult it is to find a good spot to see the western horizon on a clear night without trees and rooftops in the way.

Well, now I know. And this is it:

Tiny! Nothing like the photos online. I couldn’t have spotted it without binoculars and even now I feel as if I ought to draw a circle round it – otherwise, how can you see it? My satisfaction is out of all proportion. The successful expedition involved wellingtons, climbing over a fence and standing in a field for 40 minutes. People who saw me asked if I was looking for the barn owl they’d seen flying over the orchard.

There were incidentals to note while hanging around waiting for darkness: the silhouettes of gnats and moths against the fading colour of the sky, the jet overhead whose contrail appeared to be on fire (reflection of the sun?), and my increasing respect for those early astronomers whose observations enabled them to distinguish between stars, planets and comets.

My next mission? The barn owl . . .