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Unsurprisingly, after yesterday’s exertions, I’ve spent most of today sitting in a whimpering heap, complaining about having exhibition back. Self-inflicted wounds, etc. – no sympathy expected.

Around the middle of the afternoon I thought that I’d better pop outside between the rain showers to see if I could find something to photograph, and was happy to spot a fresh Small Tortoiseshell butterfly; the butterfly, however, was not as pleased to see me, and had a fit of the vapours every time I pointed the macro at it. I spent a good ten minutes playing Grandmother’s Footsteps with it, and still hadn’t achieved anything better than a record shot, when a sudden blur of movement caught my peripheral vision as this Hummingbird Hawkmoth swooped in to feed on the centranthus. The Small Tortoiseshell departed in a huff, and I fired off ten frames at the moth, of which seven (luckily) were good enough to be keepers.

And then, literally as I was framing the eleventh shot, it disappeared.

Sometimes you just happen to be in the right place at the right instant in time, with the right lens and the right(ish) settings. Today was one of those lucky days.