This evening I am sparing a thought for plasterer Paul Powell, who hails from my second-favourite place in the world: Gloucestershire.
Paul was two miles into a run around the village of Shurdington - former home of none other than my granny - when he noticed aforementioned buzzard swooping down on him, talons outstretched, ready for the kill.
After two murder attempts, the 38-year-old managed to find shelter in a nearby farmhouse.
The Gloucestershire Echo said Paul was "rushed to hospital". I guess this is par for the course - heaven forbid that anyone is ever "taken" to hospital again.
His injuries? Four puncture wounds in his head. Nasty.
The story also appeared on the Daily M**l website, where it received my favourite comment of the day from a Mr Kevin Sunderland of Sunderland (I think Kevin may have accidently typed where he was from into the 'surname' tab, before typing it again into the 'from' tab, then thinking... nah I won't delete it, I'm a- too lazy or b- it looks kinda funny, haha, aren't I great? Or he could just be called Kevin Sunderland).
Anyway, his response to the story was thus: "I get attacked by them up in the hills all the time. I use my walking pole to fend them off.
"I was once chased for about three miles."
This is the best image I've had in my head so far this month. Thank you Kevin Sunderland from Sunderland. And plasterer Paul, I hope you get well soon. Love from Charlie.
Pic credit: Marc P Jones
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