Friday, 9 June 2017


I don't talk about politics on here.

I may occasionally bang my head against the wall in the near vicinity, but don't mind that. The dents are gradually forming the work of modern art that will secure my early retirement [just as soon as I get that hypnotism thing right...].

So, I will speak of this week in only incidents marked primarily by piccies [oh dear...]

Such as, visitors to the rations I put out;

Mr Nuthatch

Through a [pane of] glass, wetly.

Mr Blackbird
[plus The Bucket, with Acme Pigeon Guard™]

Also in rain, though less vigorous.

This afternoon, I sought brief sanctuary in Yarner, even managing some proper peace and quiet.

A bit too quiet - no specialties except for a couple of distant Pied Flycatchers!

Not empty, though;

Grey Wagtail

Song Thrush

"No really, I'm a Veery!"

[Oh dear...]

Now, I know I have my 'no politics', but that doesn't mean 'no awful humour';

It's all Green here.

There's got to be a Lib-Dem joke in there somewhere..

I'm stopping, I'm stopping....

Be Seeing You..

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