Normally I'd be out at dawn with my tea, watching and waiting to see what might come along. This can eat a big chunk out of the morning when your most productive period is the time before most people are out of bed.
Midsummer's dawn, though, was chilly and wet as old heck. So I lit the fire and got on with this picture, and finished it in time for lunch. It's the lapwings in the field opposite, mobbing a buzzard. Bolshy blighters, lapwings. Yesterday morning the local seagulls got bored of playing chess with the crows in the south field, and tried to create some lebensraum in the lapwings' field. It did not end happily.
The rain stopped, the sun even came out for a while, and I popped into Devizles with the toilet tank that needed emptying. It's been sitting outside for several days, oppressing me. When I changed tanks over, I had to scrape some slugs off the empty one before I inserted it into the Thetford bog. As I was doing so, I saw Labrador Woman looking appalled.
"I'm just scraping the slugs off" I said, lest she might be thinking I was emptying the damn thing in the hedge. Then I realised that my explanation was hardly helpful in building bridges between the Nice People and us ditch gypsies.
Hands across the ocean. Ect ect.