Why do we call him Tiny?

{drum-roll...}

Because he's my newt!

{cymbals...}

Come quickly, said the head-gardener, and I did. Forgetting everything I pretend to know about aperture and focus I ran, ran, ok, sauntered into the back garden... 

Janet had uncovered a rather unhappy looking newt at the far end of the garden, well away from the pond, while messing around with the new flower bed (pictures, I'm sure, to come in good time). She quickly gathered him (or her) up and deposited him (or indeed her) onto a lily pad where I grabbed one quick snap before he was gone into the water.

There are many in there already amongst the fish - all thankfully common newts and no dreadfully difficult to manage crested ones - and he probably got a bit lost. Welcome home, Tiny.