A movement caught my eye. Something fairly large and light brown had fluttered over the field opposite my house and disappeared into the ditch on the far side.
A hare! I thought, followed (almost) immediately by, Don’t be daft, hares can’t fly!
Common sense told me the half-glimpsed creature had probably been a pheasant or duck, but the picture it planted in my mind insisted on growing bigger, brighter and more detailed. Of course there’s no such thing as a flying hare - I know that - but that’s not going to stop me writing a story about one!
Another senior moment, or a flash of creative genius? You decide.