We live in Denis’ garden. He was a mewing young magpie when we moved here 19 years ago, and over the years we have built up a delightful friendship with our landlord - who is, I am quite sure, the mother of two or three of the annual crop of baby magpies! Pym, a very aggressive white back, is definitely the dominant male around here, and not only does he have Denis at his beck and call, but Mata Hari too. Between them and Walks with a Limp, there are always magpies all over the lawn all the time.

Denis feeding Pork and Beans

It is Denis, however, who keeps us on our toes. When we are sitting out in the garden with a cold beer at the end of a long, hot day in the olive grove, he likes to sample the snacks. Peanuts would be his favourite, and he will go to almost any lengths to get at them!

One summer night it was unbearably hot, so I brought dinner out onto the table in the garden. I went back in to fetch a glass of wine, and both Simon and I came out of the house at the same time to find Denis standing on the edge of the plate tucking into Simon's meal! He (she is always he) had his beak stuffed full of Coronation Turkey, and looked up as if to say ‘Hi guys! Did you bring a glass for me?’ I collapsed with laughter, while Simon indignantly suggested that he remove himself and get his own food. I then spent the rest of the evening throwing my penne to him so that he wouldn’t be too hungry! The fact that he could hardly fly because he was so full of dog biscuits was neither here nor there.