I'd heard rumors of this thrilling trio, on a fence at the other end of my road, from Athamos, but didn't see it myself until I'd already walked by it once. As I'd recently discovered that a Norwegian waffle iron belonging to my last-year's-housemate (and ardent black glover) Azar had been left behind in my house, I wanted to put it to good use. Thus, Daniel and I dashed to Premier to get some eggs, Nutella, and ice cream, and lo and behold, on the way back these three finally revealed themselves! (Of course Daniel had to pick the black one up and fling it around for a while before I could retrieve it and photograph it.)
Oh, and then it turned out that because the waffle maker was Norwegian, we didn't have the correct plug converter. I tried to see if it would work in the bathroom shaver-plug, accompanied by shrieks of "Don't get electrocuted!" from various housemates, but it didn't. Also, it was covered with mysterious short black hairs. We ended up making pancakes instead. Triple fail.