Flowering things continued...

This morning's usual walk down the coombe to the shore and back revealed even more slightly unseasonal flowers and shrubs...

Forsythia - just a little bit early. Cherry pie flavoured winter heliotrope everywhere, of course, absolutely normal for the time of year. White periwinkle and (pink) red valerian. Hawkbit and cranesbill. Brambles both in the woods and up here by the steps, so we could theoretically be eating blackberries in March or thereabouts. Down on the shore there's an escallonia hedge in flower, and one of those bushes with flowers that look like prawns. In Joy's garden some bedraggled begonias and nicotanias are resolutely clinging to life.


Even in my house I find that an amaryllis which had been banished to the spare bedroom after flowering has suddenly developed a new flower spike, so it's been unbanished, and one of my cacti which normally flowers around Easter has a single Christmas flower. And I have just now remembered seeing field poppies in bloom at the top of the cliff (just outside the pub terrace) in Downderry a week last Sunday.

The Flowers and the Bees

There was a white tailed bumble bee buzzing around the big purple hebe bush at the top of the steps to the woods today. The hebe is one of the many garden plants which have either never stopped flowering or are coming into season again, and there are so many I thought I'd try a list. Here in Cornwall there is always a certain amount of merging of the seasons, but there seems to be more than ever this year.

Garden flowers/shrubs: apart from the big leaved big flowered hebe mentioned above, there are several other varieties, including the small pink flowered one from which my bird feeders emerge. There are some scraggy roses left, and several different varieties of fuschias. Cyclamen and pansies (normal for the time of year). Campanula and those ubiquitous tall red lily like things I don't know the name of. Lots of heathers. Red Jasmine and lavender! Mexican wall daisies. Primulas, although no 'proper' primroses yet.

Continuing with this theme, I went to Churchtown this afternoon and kept my eyes open, for once. Apart from the usual lawn daisies and dandelions, I also saw red campion, herb robert, white dead nettles, self heal, a couple of types of speedwells and - this really was a surprise - honeysuckle in full flower!

My honeysuckle in the garden looks very wintry from a distance, but on close inspection I can see new leaves coming. Elder leaves are also emerging already in several places, and the hedges are full of new shoots of goosegrass.

The bumblebee this morning was a surprise, but there are still clouds of midges to be seen anywhere there is a shaft of sunlight. This in spite of the fact that the daytime temperature has been hovering around freezing for a week or so now. Of course, coastal Cornwall being as it is the temperature doesn't go down more than a degree or two at night, either, so there have been no really hard frosts since the couple we had at the beginning of December.

Latchbrook walk

It's still sunny and cold - really nice weather for the time of year and not unpleasant for walking in, either. Bluebells, primroses and arum lilies are shooting up in the coombe. There was a solitary redshank down in the creek this morning hunting alongside the sandpiper and the egret.

I took Ty to Latchbrook in the early afternoon on the way to Waitrose. Although we were in brilliant sunshine, there were still quite a lot of white frosty patches on the grass there. More bluebells and arum lilies there, too, and one hazel with ripe catkins, the pollen blazing yellow in the low sun. Wanting to give him a slightly longer walk than usual, we went exploring up one of the paths which go up the side of the valley to the actual Latchbrook estate and discovered an abandoned looking building in a playing field surrounded by broken down fences. When we went for a peer through the cracked glass of the front door we discovered it to be the Latchbrook Community Centre, offically opened by the Mayor in 2002. There doesn't seem to be much of a community spirit in this modern estate of desirable suburban residences...

High Definition defined

It's a least a couple of months since our somewhat aged TV changed colours, with green blood and red oceans, and we've been putting off replacing it until the January Sales. Which this year, apparently, started on Xmas Day.

So off we went to Argos with a pile of vouchers to cash in and got a 32" HD Sony Bravia LCD TV for only just a little more than we can really afford. Then came the fun bit - getting it to work connected to the V+ box was comparatively easy, getting it to perform in HD as advertised was a little more complicated.

Both the TV set and the box need to recognise the other, and as usual it's do a bit to one, do something to the other, follow the instructions on the screen, get nearly there and... well, start again, really. I must say that the most comprehensive instructions (which finally worked) were the ones on the Virgin help site, and it is now up and definitively running. All I could possibly desire is something worth watching to watch, now!

Salt Mill,Swans and Such

For the first time in a very long time, Ron suggested a walk together this afternoon. Salt Mill Park, because it's flat, there are benches every 100 yards, and he can sit and look out over the river and admire the boats. I find it quite frustrating having to wait for him and sit/stand about instead of actually walking, but the dog was happy enough to have a toy thrown for him for a while, although he didn't count it as a 'walk' and kept trying to make me take him further rather than get in the car. By the time we got home his body language was so dejected that I gave in and took him on a quick run up and down the coombe anyway, just as it was getting dark.

At Salt Mill I saw a brown swan flying past towards Waterside. Navigating by shoreline, following every contour, keeping low and labouring mightily to keep in the air. By the time we got to Waterside, having also stopped off at Jubilee Green to look at more boats, the ugly duckling was outside the pub being fed, with a couple of older swans. It's not actually entirely brown - there is some evidence of white feathers coming through on its back - but it's still very unusual for a cygnet not to have changed colour by this time of year. I'm not sure whether it belongs to Waterside, either. I haven't actually seen any cygnets this year, which doesn't mean there aren't any, just that I haven't seen them, but it's strange to see a young bird on its own, without parents or siblings. Shortly after we arrived a whole gang of swans (and a goose) arrived, more than 20 of them, but the brown one seemed to be keeping himself somewhat apart from the rest. If he is a stranger, then it is to be hoped that he settles down as well as George the goose has. It's a year now since he first took over as gang leader of the Waterside flock.

Signs of Spring!?! (2)

Today is the Winter Solstice, viewed by some as the start of winter, by me as the turning of the year, with longer days to look forward to. It is NOT normally the date on which blackheaded gulls show off their newly moulted black heads to the girlies, but there was one such on the roof opposite this morning. Through the eyeglass it still looked a bit sparse, actually, but definitely all over his head, not just the usual winter spots.

New (to my garden) birds on the red jasmine this morning - either marsh tits or willow tits, I can't tell the difference. Two of them and I watched them for half an hour or so, exploring everywhere. Of course, it doesn't lose its leaves very much, so it's one of the bushiest bushes around at the moment. There are lots of sparrows, of course, up to a dozen at a time again, and they seem to be roosting in the escallonia where they have their nesting colony; I do hope they aren't planning on nesting already! Also this morning at the feeders I have had a coal tit (on seeds, not peanuts) two collared doves who landed on the feeder, had a look round and went away again, and Christmas Dinner, the crumb addicted wood pigeon. Tomorrow I shall substitute sage and onion stuffing mix for the breadcrumbs, and on Wednesday glue, ready for the pot!

One of things I wonder about is the fat balls. I have never seen any bird, of any species, eating them, although they are gradually going down, and there are little beak marks in evidence. I only put them up about three weeks ago, in a proper fat ball feeder cage. I did see sparrows vainly trying to hover and peck (not having the sense or the ability, perhaps, to cling on to the wire of the cage), so I have fixed a piece of twig across the bottom to make perches. This was about four days ago, but I've yet to see any evidence that they are being used. One sparrow likes peanuts and often goes to the peanut feeder, but sits on the perch at the bottom. Another odd thing is that when I look at varieties of bird seed not one is intended for sparrows, but that's what I've got, pretty well, so that's what I shall cater for.

Signs of Spring!?!

I saw my first celandine in flower today, down in the Coombe. There's euphorbia in flower down at the creek, as well, although in my garden it isn't quite ready yet.

Nature notes again

On Thursday last I took the dog to Latchbrook, where I noticed lots of snowdrops (plants, not flowers). Yesterday I saw some daffodil shoots in the garden (both front and back), so at least some of the 50 bulbs I put in are still alive so far. I was a bit worried, though, because I thought it was way too soon. This morning, however, I observe that there are also daffodil shoots in the coombe, and a few bluebell shoots coming through.

On our way to Churchtown yesterday afternoon we passed a field with some young cattle in it, about thirty or so not quite calves but not yet bullocks or heifers sized. The farmer had put down some feed for them and they were walking all over it. In among their legs an egret was prowling, quite unconcerned for the nearness of muddy hooves and tails, rooting for insects in the hay.

Interesting Times...

The last couple of days have been rather more full of incident than is usual for my quiet life.

On Thursday Ron, who has got into the habit of slobbing about in trackie bottoms, tried on every pair of trousers he possesses, even his suit, to find something to wear for his sister's 60th birthday dinner, and couldn't get in to any of them. So we decided that a trip into the Bill Tall shop in Plymouth was in order, and it was booked in for after yoga on Friday morning.

Before yoga on Friday morning I met the downstairs neighbours on the doorstep and was told about a problem with their gas fire. An engineer had been called for. Ty and I slithered our way through the woods for half an hour, then I went off to my class.

I was having a quick cup of coffee before leaving (about 11.45) when we had a call from the Eye Infirmary to say that Ron's lens and glasses were ready. The dispenser would be there until 1pm, so we decided to do that before the shopping. We had our coats on when the doorbell rang: Fred and Josie had had their gas cut off because it was so dangerous, he had been sent to the Doctor's and had a note for them both to go to Derriford A&E asap to be checked for carbon monoxide poisoning. So we dropped them there, then dashed to the Eye Infirmary. The glasses are great but when he tried the new lens it made his eye sore, so we put the old one back in left it to try again later.

Shopping was interesting. In very rapid succession he picked out a pair of black trousers, an extra long black shirt, a pair of black slip on shoes and a cream silk extra long tie. I can't remember the last time I actually made him go shopping as opposed to me doing it for him or getting stuff from catalogues. It's a bit too expensive to let it happen too often!

We had lunch in town - OAPs special cod and chips etc - and came home. My intention was to take Ty for a very long tiring walk so that he would be happy to be left at home while we were out, but it got very bleak with a biting wind and hard, solid, horizontal rain, so we had as much as I could stand and came back. When I turned back half way round skylark field, which is very exposed, he came along with me quite happily till we got to the gate, but then tried to take me off down to the woods instead of up the lane towards home. He obviously knew I was trying to cheat him!

By the time John and Steph came to pick us up at six the rain was torrential, and it didn't stop all night. It was a long drive to the Fox and Hounds (just over an hour and a half) and very unpleasant, but we had a lovely evening with good food and good company. On the way back the roads were flooded in places but just about passable - I read on the news this morning that there had been some places where people had had to be rescued.

That was Friday. Saturday dawned dry but soggy underfoot, and even more 'interesting', if that's possible. I'd hoped for a bit of a lie in, but Fred was ringing the doorbell very early, fully recovered from his scare of yesterday, wanting to borrow the chariot, which Ron had offered to him while his own car is being re-engined. So I got up and showed him how it worked. While I was doing that John next door came over to say his battery was dead, and could be take up Ron's kind offer of the loan of a spare one until he could get a new one (last week it was only the battery charger he needed). That sorted, I had a coffee before taking Ty down to the creek.

When we got back a young man was trying to start a people carrier which had been parked in a rather interesting manner outside the garages. He had apparently dropped some stuff off in his garage on Friday night and the vehicle had died on him in the pouring rain. He had walked round with one of those emergency power pack thingies, which of course was having no effect whatsoever, so I brought the monster truck round and gave him a jump start. I'm having a sign for the front door - 'Hazel's Auto Solutions'!

Away Day in the Frozen North (Midlands)

Today was the coldest dawn I can remember since we lived here, and it also happened to be the day we had to drive to Stafford and back to collect the new campervan 'im indoors has bought on eBay.

I walked out of the front door about 7.45am, took two steps and slid the rest of the way to the fence, in spite of wearing sensible walking boots. From there I held on very tight along the path and down the steps, from where I was in the woods and walking on non slippy stuff. A gentle rain was falling, which was freezing as it hit the ground, so by the time we got back half an hour later it was quite icy everywhere.

We spent ten minutes or so de-icing the monster truck before we could start off - and then, of course, we had extreme difficulty getting it to the top of the hill. Down the other side and over the bridge was easier, although I was glad I wasn't driving at that time. Once we got on to the main road it was quiet and peaceful, light traffic and easy driving, so we made pretty good time up the motorway, although Miss TomTom chose to take us the scenic route for the last bit, down the quiet country lanes which were still frozen and quite slidery.

The campervan was good, the deal was done, we came back in convoy (slowly) as far as Strensham, where Ron and I had sausages and mash and a cup of tea, then I took the monster truck and the dog home and left him to follow on at Transit van speed...

When I got home I expected the dog to want to go straight off for a walk, but he insisted on going into the house. Once there, he inspected all the rooms (looking for his Best Pal) then had a whimper and sat on the stairs, quite depressed. I had a cup of tea. Some three quarters of an hour later, he heard Ron arriving and jumped up and down until I let him out to meet him. THEN he wanted a walk, all excitement, so I took him past the Big Tree and up behind Cowdray until we heard a Transit manoeuvering, whereupon he stopped stock still, then turned round and ran home. I could have told him that the van we heard was up on St Stephens, but he wasn't risking losing his Best Pal again! Dogs is weird, is all I can say.

Other weird things today: Over the road there is a garden with a camellia in bloom (well it's got two flowers on). I saw a field full of sheep with lambs just this side of Exeter on the way up this morning. I saw a blackbird bathing in the stream when I took the dog down the creek this morning. And I saw a buzzard flying low across the motorway with a rat in its talons, also on the way up the motorway this morning.

Enough odd stuff. Time for bed!

Winter Wonderland...

This is what I consider to be perfect winter weather - a heavy frost followed by a clear, calm blue sky. Down at the creek this morning the water was completely still, although it wasn't possible to see all the way across for the steam rising off it.

The sandpiper has been joined by a curlew. I wonder sometimes why we only ever seem to have one each of this occasional bird varieties - one egret, one sandpiper, one curlew, one kingfisher.

'Wintry' Weather

After a couple of really cold days, yesterday morning appeared to be slightly warmer, wet underfoot instead of frosty as I set out to take the dog to the woods. So, of course, I was oblivious to the big patch of black ice halfway down the steps leading down to the coombe, and landed face down on the concrete. Luckily for me, my face was actually over the edge and I was wearing fleece lined waterproof trousers and jacket (and gloves) so I was mostly unhurt although a little shaken.

I should have known better, of course. The dog had actually slipped in exactly the same spot the day before, landing spreadeagled and looking very shocked. I wasn't holding on to the handrail because it was visibly wet. Ah, well, one lives and learns to be a bit more careful next time. And it gave me the opportunity to make use of the gritting sand the council kindly provided for the community about five years ago, and which has never been used because it hasn't been cold or icy enough since.

Today it was slightly warmer again, here, although the rest of the country is still, I understand, gripped with ice and snow. It was actually very bright, too bright for safety, when I was driving to the resource centre this morning, with the sun low down and the glare from the wet roads.

nature notes update

Two firsts today: long tailed tits in my garden, testing the fat balls, and the first blackthorn blossoms of the year (due in January, really) up at Churchtown.

It hasn't been quite so cold today as recently, but damp and grey instead. Now that winter really seems to have set in more birds are coming to the garden. No sparrows at all - they are still on an elsewhere - but a small flock of mixed tits and chaffinches seems to pass through occasionally, mostly checking the birches for insects but also coming down to the feeders at the same time.

I took Ty up to Churchtown in the afternoon and spotted some blackthorn blossom on one of the hedges - at the same place as I have seen it in previous years, but even earlier, I think. Perhaps they will have a better year next year. There have been very few sloes on the trees this year, not to mention the missing acorns, hazelnuts, beech mast, blackberries, etc. There were a few berries on the holly, but almost all of them have been eaten already.

There are still a few flowers struggling on the brambles, and there are already catkins on the hazels.

Winter Visitors Arriving

It's a little calmer and warmer today, grey but not actually raining. Down at the creek this morning (half tide again) there was a larger than usual variety of visitors, but almost all alone; one swan, one kingfisher, one jay, one robin, one crow, one sandpiper. The sandpiper is a regular winter visitor, seen for the first time today. This is the third winter I have seen it at the creek, but there only ever seems to be one. There were quite a lot of ducks, as well. A mallard with what seemed to be three half grown ducklings, and two gadwall. A grey mullet was floating idly with his back out of the water, then suddenly leapt a good foot clear of the surface, somersaulting before diving back in. I wonder what upset him?

The beginning of winter?

It's very autumnal now, indeed it's equinoctial, with gales and rain and general misery all round. It wasn't too bad in the morning; when I went down the coombe with the dog it was grey but still and dry. There were eight swans and George the Goose milling about in the creek, which was at about half tide, plus the usual egret and a lone Gadwall drake. It was so still for a moment there that I could see the swans' reflections, but as I was watching them there came a clanking of halyards from the boats on the Tamar, the wind starting swirling under the viaduct and the rain came down! And came down, and came down... And the wind has got stronger and stronger all day, as well.

I was trying to stave off the inevitable afternoon walkies when I had a phone call from Tom, who had a job for me, so I went to pick it up on my way to Churchtown with Ty. Churchtown was a mistake today, it is far too open and exposed to the weather. I wore the yellow waterproof but had made the mistake of going out in jeans because I was calling in to see Tom, so by the time I had been once round the top five fields my legs were completely soaked. And my car keys were not in my pocket. Definitelynot there. I spent a good few minutes fumbling with cold wet hands in pockets full of plastic bags, but nothing. Nothing for it but to go round again, hoping I could find them...

Off we set again, although I still couldn't believe I'd dropped the keys, and continuing patting myself down, sort of, while keeping my eyes on the ground. And eventually found a lumpy bit of coat lining, which proved to be my keys. The hole in the pocket they had slipped through was so small as to be almost invisible, and took me a long time to find before I was able to retrieve them. As I eventually got into the car the rain stopped, which was adding insult to injury. The small god of walkies is a mischievous god, sometimes...

Catching Up

Where does the time go? Apparently it's two weeks since I wrote anything here, although it seems much less. And it's not as if life has been completely free of incident...

Well, the good weather is partly to blame. We had over two weeks without any rain and (mostly) with sunshine. I was easily tempted into more dog walking than usual, gardening, etc. I have planted 50 daffodil bulbs, which is a lot of work in the stony shaley claybank that is my 'back garden' and the even stonier but flatter patch at the front. I also acquired a beautiful blue and gold glazed pot from a boot sale, which has been planted up with a blueberry (currently with glorious bright red leaves), daffodil bulbs and pansies. This has been parked next to the front door, and one of the pansies already has a flower. Other gardening has mostly involved the removal of montbretia to try to give some space to put other stuff in, and lots of overdue weeding.

Last weekend was the last of the good weather, it would appear. On Saturday we went to a 50th birthday party and it was still warm enough for it to be held in house, marquee and garden. The dress code - posh frocks and flipflops - was interpreted in some interesting ways, particularly by some gentlemen who had DJs with bermuda shorts. Long red velvet sleeves with ruffles are not ideal for barbecuing mackerel in the dark, I must say, but the results were delicious!

On Sunday Ty and I went through to Plym Bridge to meet the gang for a walk. There were ten walkers, three dogs, one cyclist and one neighbour who met us for lunch. We went along the cycle route which is mostly a disused country railway (including quite a long tunnel) five miles to Clearbrook on Dartmoor for a very pleasant lunch in the garden of the Skylark Inn and back in time for tea (well, icecream from the van before it closed for the afternoon). It was very easy walking as it was almost all flat, but we did have one or two problems with cyclists who seemed to feel walkers were not allowed (not true) or that it was acceptable to come up behind people at full speed and barge straight through. Don't bicycles have bells any more? We were walking responsibly, keeping to one side of the path, keeping the dogs under control, etc, but still had a couple of uncomfortable moments.

On Monday the weather changed. It's gone distinctly autumnal, very windy and quite cool with showers of rain. Not quite cold enough to put the heating on or get out the bit quilt, but I am sitting here wearing woolly socks and a fleecy jacket over the Tshirt and leggings I wore for pilates class tonight. Ron's brother came down on Monday for a couple of days - it's a pity he missed the Indian Summer.

George is Back!

Ty and I walked down to the town this afternoon, starting at the top of Fore Street and buying a thermos flask and some vegetables, paying some money into the bank, buying a stamp for a letter to France, calling in the Co-op for milk and yoghurt, then carrying on down to the river to walk home along the shore to the creek then up the Coombe and home. A nice walk, one of Ty's favourites, but only possible at lowish tide.

On the way we pass the Union at Waterside, and I was very pleased to see that George the Goose is back with the swans. He first arrived just before Christmas and very quickly established himself as boss of the waterside gang, but he has been on the missing list for a couple of months. I'm not sure how long exactly because I haven't been down there very much while I was wounded, and when I enquired the bar staff hadn't noticed...

Anyway, this afternoon he's back. Looking a bit thin, but otherwise just as bossy as ever. One assumes he's been looking for love, but equally one assumes he hasn't found it, otherwise I don't think he'd have bothered coming back to swan city.

Summer Walking

Sitting here looking out at grey leaden skies it seems more a dream than a memory, but yesterday was a day worthy of the name 'summer'. It was hot, sunny, calm and blue, almost too hot for walking, but walking is what we did.

A walk had already been arranged from Looe to Talland and back along the coastpath, with a snack at the Smugglers' Rest in the middle, and we'd have done it even if it had been raining, but the beautiful weather was a bonus. It was the first long walk I'd been on since before I broke my wrist - not that I couldn't walk, just that I couldn't drive to the meeting places - so it was even more gratifying.

The coastpath in that area is very steep; it isn't very far as the crow flies, but there's more up and down than along, so it's quite a hard walk. We met several groups of holidaymakers who had been tempted by the fine weather to perhaps take on more than they were fit for. Some wearing flipflops, some with babies in buggies struggling up and down steps, some showing signs of incipient sunburn, etc. Way below us there were lots of pleasure boats either sailing very slowly or motoring along looking for a cove for a picnic. A most enjoyable bonus day.

In the evening we were booked in for a barbecue at Wearde. This was also most enjoyable; good food, good wine and very good company on the terrace overlooking the river. Until the inevitable happened and the rain came down. Not that it deterred the few hardy souls amongst us who managed to find a seat under the hawthorn tree.

Changes, changes

Every day things change out there in the woods. But most of the changes are so small that they go unreported. Perhaps that's a bad thing - I should make proper notes and compare seasons and write it all down in a diary, but I would rather wonder at it all than analyse it.

This morning the sun is shining and the sky is blue. If it weren't for the ash which has split about four feet off the ground, spreading its branches in all directions and creating a very big hole in the canopy, and the mud underfoot, it would be difficult to credit the contrast between today's weather and the day before yesterday. The bees are back buzzing round the ivy on the shore - I never realised there were that many different bee species - and the hazel at the top of the steps leading to the woods has tiny little unripe catkins all over its branches, mixed in with the unripe but rapidly colouring fruit.

Here's Ivy

Down at the creek there's a bit of garden wall covered with ivy which faces due South, and is always the first to flower. This gloriously sunny morning it has opened up, discreetly as always. For a human it's virtually impossible to tell by sight or smell whether the flowers are open or not and I'd have passed by without noticing, but the whole plant was alive with bees, hundreds of them, some with their pollen sacs so yellow and swollen they could hardly fly, but still eagerly collecting more. Ivy is the single most attractive flower to bees and butterflies I know, and it does it all with tiny pale green florets. Maybe the fact that there's not a lot of competition and they are all keen to stock up for the cold times ahead is enough, maybe ivy seen from a bee's point of view is brighter than it appears to us.

Back to the Wet Stuff...

...in both senses. It's raining again - the TV experts tell me that this August has been the cloudiest, if not actually the wettest, since records began in 1929, and I could well believe it. And now September has started with rain and a gale of wind, just for good measure.

I decided a little while ago that I would make September 1st my target for getting back into the gym, or at least the swimming pool, and I duly turned up for an aquacise class at lunchtime. Unfortunately, the instructor didn't, but I had a swim anyway for half an hour or so. I didn't go round in circles, either; in fact the wrist seems to work better in the water than out. I'd have gone to Pilates tonight as well if it hadn't been raining so hard - the one thing I just don't feel ready for is driving, and I just wasn't quite motivated enough to walk there...

What a Lovely Day!

Unexpectedly, against the predictions of the meteorologists, yesterday was a beautiful summer's day. The sun shone, the sky was blue, there was no wind to speak of - the type of weather one expects in August, but which has sadly been elusive up till now.

Too late to plan a proper outing, but after I had dug a pair of shorts out from the 'to be ironed' heap where they had languished since before I broke my wrist Ty and I went to Churchtown for the afternoon. The tide was coming in fast and the current was very strong in the river. Ty had a very good swim, while I watched a couple of small inflatables making negative progress paddling down river towards Wearde. More by luck than judgment, I think, they got out of the main channel eventually, otherwise they'd have been in danger of spending the night in the Dandy Hole.

When we climbed back up from the shore Ty found a lovely toy; a rubber ring, but with a woolly coating like a tennis ball. We played with this all the way back to the road. I took it off him and carried it along the road and the bridle path, but as soon as we reached the playing field (last grass before home) he insisted on my throwing it again for him. Twice. The third time I threw it he just sat and looked at it. When he was sure I was going to pick it up, off he trotted homewards down the hill.

This was the third toy he had found in as many days. The first was a tennis ball up a tree at Latchbrook, but he lost that again by knocking it over a fence into some nettles. Despite his clear entreaties that I should rescue it for him it had to stay there, sadly. The next day, Friday, we were walking home from the library past the tennis courts when suddenly he had a brand new ball in his mouth! Nobody seemed to be looking for it, so it went in my shopping bag...

When we got home there was a note on top of my computer keyboard informing me that we were being taken out for a meal by Ron's brother and his wife. And a message on the phone saying the same thing, just in case I missed the note.

We went to a pub/restaurant which is only about five minutes' drive from home, but which I had never before set foot in. The food was good and the evening very pleasant. I took Claire's eating implement with me, but didn't have to use it; I was able to cut up my Cajun Chicken with a normal knife and fork, although I have to hold the knife a little awkwardly. In fact, I am finding that I am doing more and more each day and was feeling quite pleased with myself until Steph said how 'horrible' my poor arm looked! I suppose it does, but not to me. To me it looks almost normal again now.

As I type there is a young herring gull on the roof opposite, begging for food from a parent. What an odd season this has been - the nesting season should be well over by now. The sycamores have almost lost all their leaves now, and the silver birches are about half way there. Blackberries were early but not abundant, some of the rowans were really heavy with berries, others not, hips and haws are few and far between, as are hazelnuts, but the elderberries are doing very well, unlike the sloes.

Sushi Dog

It's been a long time since I've seen *really* fresh mackerel. Many years ago Ron used to go out mackereling, but they all but disappeared and we went away and nobody bothers much any more, certainly not on a commercial basis round here. Today Ron went over to Downderry, not to go fishing, but found that there were mackerel about, the sea conditions were ideal, and everybody who had a small boat on the beach had dug out their fishing gear and gone out to play. So he came home with a bag full, a present from a friend, still with their beautiful iridescent green and black markings - a wonderful surprise for supper.

Although we eat a lot of fish, it's mostly from supermarkets and cleaned and filletted before we get it, so it was the first time in many years that I had to actually process them myself. Not a problem; I wasn't sure whether my wrist/swollen fingers would manage, but actually I found it quite easy, heads and tails off and filletting (they'd already been gutted, of course), and grilled with a bit of grated cheese on. Delicious!

Dog was watching the process with quite intense interest, and Ron suggested I offer him a mackerel head. Not a good idea, I thought; he'll make a mess on the carpet, at the very least. But I was overruled and a head was put on a dish for him. After a couple of minutes tentative licking (and taking it out of the dish to play with on the carpet, the little ******) he suddenly decided it was edible and crunched it up, then came looking for more! The rest of the fish heads disappeared faster than the speed of light, and he then turned his attention to watching Ron very, very carefully to make sure he didn't drop any of the cooked bits on the floor!

In our fishing days we had cats, not dogs, and they used to turn their noses up at mackerel heads, cooked or raw. I remember, however, a day when we were given a salmon - I foolishly left it in the kitchen sink from where it was stolen by one of the cats and guarded ferociously when I tried to retrieve it. I think it's the only time I remember being growled at by a cat. The most I managed was to grab it and divide it in two so the cats could share.

The Sparrows Return

For the last three days there have been no sparrows - not in my garden, not in the silver birch trees nor on the fences, not in the hedge where most of them nest. No fluttering of wings, no chirpy contact calls, no arguments at the feeders, no fledgings begging, nothing. Well not quite nothing. Yesterday I did see one lone young sparrow accompanied by a blue tit and a pair of chaffinches, but that's been all. And most other birds have been conspicuous by their absence, too. The weather's been really bad and I could understand a certain amount of huddling and sulking, but it's been quite eerily quiet, and I don't like it.

This morning, however, despite the pouring rain I woke to hear sparrows chattering outside, and then a much more piercing sound - a flock of 19 starlings, plus one jackdaw, on the roof of Hugo's house opposite. And the sparrows are back just as if they had never been away. At one time I counted 15 of them all trying to get to the feeders at the same time.

I wonder where they went? Down to the woods, perhaps, to look for berries? I didn't see them there - in fact it has been just as unnaturally lacking in birdsong there as here. I suppose that now they are no longer tied to sitting on eggs and feeding babies the whole flock could be taking off and being more adventurous, but then I'd expect, say, the Broadway playing field flock to pop over here, and I didn't see any sign of them on the way to Churchtown yesterday.

After yet another damp day the sun has come out this evening and it looks quite nice out there. If only it would last...

Nature notes and oddities

The first Jersey Tiger Moth of 2008 came to my kitchen window last Saturday, and since then I have seen one every day - and they can't all be the same one fluttering round and round my house, because this morning I met one down at Coombe Park, by the creek. It flew past me and settled briefly on the side of a big white van before going into someone's front garden.

Once more this year the seasons are getting muddled, and flowers that bloom in the spring (tra-la!) are flowering again in a damp and depressing August. I have seen two magnolia trees in flower in the last couple of days, and an alpine in my garden, a kind of white Thrift, has also now suddenly produced three flower heads. We have an odd climate here - it never gets very hot or very cold, so things do happen at odd times. It's noticeable that some plants flower all the year round, or almost. Primulas, jasmine, fuschias and roses, among many others, go on and on unless and until we get a (very rare) frost to set them back a bit. Grass grows all the year round, as well, and the Hazels often have fruit and flowers at the same time.

My sparrows have suddenly disappeared. I haven't seen a single bird in the garden all day today. On the other hand, the rowans are full of birds - I saw great and blue tits, goldfinches, chaffinches, chiffchaffs and long tailed tits all in the same tree at the same time this afternoon. Only one tree is getting this treatment at the moment; perhaps it's the only one that's properly ripe. There are lots of blackberries now, and an elder down by the creek has ripe fruit, although higher up the valley they are still green. Sloes are changing colour, and I saw a hawthorn with ripe fruit at Churchtown yesterday. I hope the sparrows are just off feasting on berries somewhere and haven't decided they don't like my garden any more...

Jersey Tiger

Grey day, glorious nature!

By lunchtime it was raining even harder and getting quite breezy. I walked into the kitchen just as a Jersey Tiger Moth fluttered gratefully to rest and shelter on the upright of the (open)window frame.

Jersey Tigers are strikingly attractive day and night flying moths with bright orange (rowan coloured!) hind wings. When they come to rest they become a perfect geometric triangle with a perfectly geometric design in black and cream. They don't, officially, live in Cornwall, at least not according to my Collins Gem guide to butterflies and moths, which gives their only winghold on Great Britain as Devon. When I first saw one five years ago, on brambles in Farm Lane just outside Churchtown Farm, I was so impressed that I contacted the local moth society, who said they knew of just one colony this side of the Tamar.

Two years later, a Jersey Tiger came in through my office window one summer night and knocked itself out trying to get into the ceiling light, landing with a crash on the carpet. I rescued it and when it came round transferred it to the hydrangea just outside the front door. Last summer and the summer before I have occasionally caught sight of one fluttering around outside the house, both back and front, but this is the first I have seen this year. I do so hope that they are making a go of it here in Cornwall...

Rowans are Ripe

Rowans were the decorative tree of choice when this houses were built; they are on every corner and along every path. A few years ago, one of my neighbours tried to get the council to cut them all down, claiming that they were poisonous and a danger to her children, and it was only when I went on the Internet and found recipes for rowan jelly (eat with pheasant) that she stopped complaining.

This morning the weather has reverted to 'normal' for this summer - steady but fairly
light rain. We went down to the creek as usual; tide was in, one egret on the shore, one swan over our side and a gang of five over the other, all very peaceful and normal in the drizzle. I was looking at the egret when I caught a flash of blue. A kingfisher swooped in near the egret from some distance away on the other side of the creek, landed momentarily on the shore then obligingly headed straight for me, veering off into the greenery on the bank at the other side of the stream. I know there are kingfishers around by the stream and the creek, but I going down there with the dog and just passing through I don't see them very often at all, perhaps three times all this year. It was kind of him to oblige this morning when everything else was so damp and grey.

The rowans aren't grey, though, they are very definitely hot deep orange, and ripe. I know they are ripe because on my way back from the creek I surprised a flock of starlings helping themselves to the berries. Perhaps the same flock as came into my garden the other day, but more of them this time, about twenty I would think. When they saw me they quickly scattered into the trees on the edge of the valley, but quite a few of them still had their beaks full!

Churchtown Summer Afternoon.

Today the weather has been fine - for the first and apparently the last time for a good while. When I took the dog to Churchtown in the afternoon it felt quite strange to be wearing sandals and a shirt. Last time I was there, a couple of weeks ago, the meadows had just been mowed and looked very yellow; after the recent rain they are now quite green again. There was a small flock of longtailed tits, about a dozen, in the brambles - the first I have seen there.

One of the 'arable' fields, which are planted with various plants to provide winter food for the birds (teasels, barley, millet, etc) is full of thistles this year, and the thistledown was drifting across the various paths and meadows like snow - in one or two places it was actually forming drifts on the ground. Many, many butterflies, buzzards calling overhead, swallows flying high... a 'proper' August afternoon, in other words. But for tomorrow they are predicting heavy rain again over the whole country.

More Sparrows

This morning at the feeder, one daddy sparrow with two demanding fledglings. I'd thought there was another brood on the way as I'd been watching a few adults carrying food over to where the nest site is, so I was very pleased to see them. They may well be the beginning of the third wave of babies this year; I do hope so.

Good News and even more Good News!

Good News #1:

I went to Derriford yesterday to the fracture clinic, and they signed me off. I don't have to go there again, only to St Barnabas over the road for physiotherapy. They sent me home with a leaflet of impossible wrist and finger exercises an that was that. I don't even have to wear the splint any more unless I want to, and should try (carefully) to use the fingers at least, if not the wrist, a little more each day. All quite liberating and satisfactory.

I can actually myself notice small bits of progress - typing is now more or less normal, although I do not appear to be using my thumb (still the most swollen and painful digit) for the space bar. Unless I actually force myself to do it with the thumb, the natural space bar presser seems to be the middle finger of the right hand. Truth is, I can't remember what I used to use, before...

Good News #2:

Even better, this. The bone scan results say that my bones are perfectly healthy, not even borderline osteoporosis, and the wrist fracture was a genuine accident, not a trend! This is such a relief that even the weather seems to have improved. I haven't quite come back down to earth yet, and still have a silly grin on my face!

Bird Feeder Frenzy

Another soggy day. I went into the kitchen at 4 o'clock intending to wash up but got distracte by a noise I didn't recognise from outside - a loud whistled argument, much louder and more musical than sparrows. It was nine starlings all competing for breadcrumbs at the same time! A couple of days ago I saw one juvenile, still with his soft brown coat on, but these were mostly older, immature but not babies. Anyway, they constituted a small flock, which was nice.

As I was watching them, they were joined by another flock, this time of mixed great tits, blue tits and chaffinches, who were based on the silver birches outside the fence but came swooping in mob handed for peanuts and seeds. At one time I counted three blue tits and two great tits all on the peanut feeder at the same time.

And it didn't stop there. Washing up forgotten, I watched in amazement as more and more birds came in. There were a few sparrows, of course, but for the first time they were outnumbered by other species. A collared dove, a couple of blackbirds, a jackdaw, two magpies... Nine different species in all, all in my tiny little garden at the same time. When I first put the feeders up, only a couple of months ago, I rarely saw any birds from the kitchen window. Today, in the rain, a good variety. Hopefully later in the year when there is less natural food I should see even more. It's quite exciting, if bad for the housework!

Butterfly Bonanza

After two days of almost solid rain, today is windy with short heavy showers but sunshine in between. Somehow some sort of a signal must have been put out to the butterfly pupae, because the air is thick with small white butterflies. They are in the woods, in the gardens, and most especially in the buddleias on the edge of the path, hundreds of them. How do they all emerge at the same time like that?

Birds in the Rain

It has poured with rain for two whole days, although it has now stopped and a watery sun has come out. Yesterday we had planned to go round looking at the entries for the garden competition, and we did, but it get wetter and wetter as the day went on. It's always interesting to look at other people's gardens, but these were something else. One thing I noticed was that for the first time every single one had bird feeders of some description somewhere. In one particular garden a robin sat on the fence and scolded us until we moved far enough away from the bird table for him to feel safe to eat - only about three feet away.

This morning I managed to grab an hour of just slight drizzle to take the dog down to the creek. The tide was out and there were three egrets scuffling away happily in the mud. Just as I was thinking to myself how unusual it was to see more than one - they are quite aggressive and territorial as a general rule - and reminding myself that actually this time of year it does happen once or twice as the young ones leave the nest, one of them noticed that his space was being invaded and set about one of his competitors, squawking loudly and raucously and harassing the poor bird until it moved away. Not all that far, not out of the creek, but far enough...

There was a new bird on my garden bird feeder this afternoon - a juvenile starling. I'm not sure where it came from as we rarely see starlings round here, but it came in for a speculative taste of the soggy bread.

Can you hear me now?

Yesterday morning, only a matter of seven weeks since I first asked our GP to refer him to the hospital and two weeks since his hearing test, Ron was fitted with his hearing aids.

The programming took an hour and looked quite complicated - but was all done on a computer screen, without even having to ask him how sounds felt/sounded. Against the audiologist's advice (he said get used to them gradually) Ron insisted on wearing them home on the bus, and was fascinated that he could hear the engine accelerating and the gears engaging. By the time we got home, though, he had had enough and had to have them out and go for a lie down.

I am very impressed with the speed and efficiency of this service. All that remains now is for him to actually use them; I know several of his contemporaries who either don't wear them at all or only in selected circumstances. I know he's going to find it difficult to get used to them, but for my sake as well as his I hope he perseveres.

Sofa Saga

About a week ago one of my neighbours asked me for help to get rid of an old sofa. She didn't want it any more as she was changing her colour scheme and it didn't go. I waffled on knowledgably about Freecycle for a while before asking her what it was like - 7ft long, terracotta soft leather, perfect condition, and she had tried to sell it but no one wanted it, so she just wanted rid because she was having a laminated floor fitted and had ordered a new sofa to go with her new lilac curtains and photo frames. I thought it sounded rather nice, went to have a look, and offered to give it a home myself, purely out of the goodness of my heart, you understand. That fact that the colour exactly picks up the detail in the wallpaper, our old sofa is knackered and too small, and we had recently acquired a dark brown leather big armchair was all totally irrelevant...

The only and obvious problem was in the size of it. Phyllis lives in an identical flat to ours but the ground floor version. Her grandson, who had put it in for her in the first place, was quite confident about getting it back out again, but would it go in our front door, round the twisty stairs and through the living room door, unhelpfully not quite opposite the top of the stairs but down a narrow passageway? He said it would, Ron thought it wouldn't, I only hoped, as I can't even offer advice at the moment, let alone lift furniture.

So last night the grandson and friend turned up, took it out of Phylis's and four doors along to us. Ron had taken the banisters down on one side of the stairs and they got it up to the first floor quite easily, the only casualty being a dangly light fitting that came away but isn't broken, and with a lot of grunting and groaning got it solidly wedged in the living room door frame. It was almost there, but it wouldn't go. Not turning it round and trying it backwards, tilting this way, tilting that, no way was it going through. By this time Ron was threatening to redesign the door frame with a saw and a big hammer, but they finally succeeded after taking the door off its hinges and removing some draughtproofing from round the inside of the frame. It just fits, looks lovely - and will have to be covered up except when we have visitors because that is an easier option than retraining the dog!

Of course, we still have to take the old one away, which is scheduled for this evening, mend the hall light and replace the door and banisters. Or do we? The door has always been wedged open, but opened into the room, so there were things hidden behind it. With it not there the room seems much bigger, somehow. Maybe not, then...

Bone Scan

Back to Derriford again this afternoon to the medical physics department, located down in the dungeon, for a bone density scan. Actually it was quite a pleasant experience - on time, nice people, good explanations, no pain. No results either, at least not for a couple of weeks.

They were very thorough. The information I'd seen on the internet said that it would be on a wrist, but in fact there were four scans, on the spine, left hip, right hip and wrist. The biggest problem was the questionnaire they gave me to fill in first - I did it, but I wasn't convinced they would be able to read it. I think my lefthanded writing would be much better if I could do it from right to left across the page. I understand now why lefthanded people have so many problems; I can't even hold the paper down properly.

More Signs of Autumn

I walked through the valley from Hessenford to Seaton this afternoon in the beautiful summer weather and found myself crunching through a thick layer of dry discarded sycamore leaves. Since last week, when I noticed some brown spotted leaves on some of the trees, we have a situation where many of the trees are already bare. Is it just that they think it's almost winter, or is something else? It's only the sycamores, luckily, not any of the other trees, but it's still very odd.

The beach at Seaton has been cleaned up a bit, although there are still a few piles of rotting kelp here and there, and there were lots of people on the beach - even some in the water, although most of them were wearing wet suits. We had a pleasant couple of hours sitting on the terrace at Downderry and just watching the world go by.

First Blackberry Crop

Not me, but one of my neighbours, out down the lane with a plastic bowl this morning, collecting quite enough for a blackberry and apple crumble. There still aren't too many, but more are ripening each day. The rowan berries are ripe now as well. Apparently they make a good jelly, but I've never tried it.

Now that summer appears finally to have arrived, it seems that we are already into autumn harvest...

Mowing at Churchtown

A better sort of day, today; sunny and breezy and bright. The visibility is so good that from the top of the hill, on the way to Churchtown, I could see right across Dartmoor in one direction and across Bodmin Moor in the other! They were mowing the meadows at Churchtown, and there were lots of swallows wheeling about above the tractor catching the disturbed insects. In one of the other fields I tried to work out from the height of the swallows what the weather was going to be like, but they were flying very high and swooping down almost to the grass, so it is obviously going to be a bit mixed. I got my first horsefly bite of the season - on my left elbow, where I couldn't even swat it away. Actually I did attempt to swat it - an automatic reaction - but quickly remembered why I couldn't.

A Boring Day

It's a dull, drizzly sort of day, and I'm in a dull, drizzly sort of mood. The sycamores in the coombe have now got dry, crinkly, dying leaves like the ones in Seaton Valley - it affects the young saplings first, then the more mature trees. It surely can't be drought, not this year, but I can't find any clue on the internet as to what it can be. It's not tar spot, because the leaves would look normal round the spots. These start with brown spots, then the whole leaf goes brownish, dry and dead.

The species count for my bird feeders is now in double figures. Apart from the sparrows, there are also now regular visits from goldfinch, greenfinch and chaffinch, blue tit and great tit, blackbird, magpie, jackdaw, collared dove and wood pigeon. I filled up late this morning, after I took Ty down the coombe to the creek and back, and from there being no birds in sight there were thirteen sparrows and a young blackbird by the time I had got back to the kitchen and looked out of the window.

Earlier today I had just neatly folded (one handed) 92 notices for the meeting next Tuesday, at which a director of the bus company was due to explain how they had improved our local services by taking most of them away and was about to go and put them through 92 local letterboxes when I had a phone call from the neighbour who had arranged the meeting. Apparently the nice bus company director can't come and play after all. He's given us another date, at the end of August, but somehow I am not convinced. At least I hadn't actually delivered all the flyers, so I only needed to put a 'postponed' notice in the noticeboard by the bus stop.

Will he or won't he actually turn up? Watch this space...

The Magpie and the Peanut Feeder

I had seen the magpie standing on the edge of the water bowl and stabbing ineffectually at the peanut feeder with its big beak a couple of times. It has now refined the technique and is getting peanuts, although it seems to me a great deal of effort for very little reward. This is how it works: it perches at the edge of the waterbowl from where the peanut feeder, one of those cheap ones with a clear plastic mesh, is only just in reach. The beak is way too big to go in through the holes, so it uses its tongue to manoeuvre half a peanut end on to the mesh so that it just pokes through, then pulls it the rest of the way out with its beak. It then drops the bit of peanut in the water and picks it up from there to eat. I watched for at least twenty minutes, during which time it got three morsels of peanut, then flew off. I suppose I could be nice and put whole peanuts on the tray for it to pick up, but I don't like the idea of sparrows, for example, trying to force a whole nut down a baby's throat, and anyway I admire a bird which shows enterprise and is prepared to put some effort in for a treat.

Yesterday's seeds? Goosegrass. I remembered that I had leaned over a wall to pick up a dead umbrella for consignment to the litter bin, and that's where I got them. I checked later and there are plenty more...

Mystery Solved?

I have given considerable thought to the identity of yesterday's mystery bird, and come to the rather boring conclusion that it was a juvenile blackbird which was, for some reason, trying to persuade me to feed it. The head bobbing is, of course, typical of begging behaviour; the noise I don't know because I've never consciously heard blackbirds begging before. The size and shape are about right, and the colouring as well, probably, bearing in mind that I was quite deep in the woods in the valley. Mystery solved, I think.

I took Ty down to the creek this morning and watched young crows being given a feeding lesson, stomping about in the mud and seaweed and occasionally begging for bits. There is an adult crow I see quite often down there who dunks his food in the stream before eating, and I wonder whether this sort of behaviour is learned by individuals or passed on by example from parents to young. I'm sure not all crows do this.

I wasn't aware of hacking my way through undergrowth, but when I got home I discovered that the front of my coat (one of those woolly lined flannelette 'lumberjack' shirts that used to be so popular before the invention of fleeces) was covered in hundreds of round brown seeds, not so much sticky as clingy. Not sure what they had come from, but the dog didn't have any so it was obviously something quite high growing. I'll look out for them tomorrow and see if I can identify the plant.

Mystery bird

I managed a proper walk from Hessenford to Downderry today. And saw a mystery bird which I am unable to identify. I heard it first, making a loud PRRRRRRRP sound, then turned round and saw it on a branch just behind me, clearly PRRRRRRRPing in my direction. About the size of a thin blackbird it was, with a dark reddish brown front, from chin level right down to the belly. The rest seemed blackish, but as I only saw it from directly front on I can't be sure. Long narrow tail held upright. It ducked its head forwards and down to PRRRRRRRP, then lifted it up again.

I've just spent - indeed am still spending - an hour or so listening to CDs of birdsong, looking in my reference books, and can find nothing resembling it. Which is quite annoying.

It was nice in the woods and not too muddy, in spite of the recent heavy rains. The sycamores in the valley seem to have some sort of disease with their leaves all curling up and brown. None of that in the coombe, so far anyway, although I have seen it there in previous years.

Ty did his usual trick under the bridge of swimming half way across, suddenly being swept away by the current ('bark, bark' 'help, help') going round the corner then getting out and doing it again, waiting for some innocent walker to leap in and save him. I let him do it about ten times today before I called him out of the water; he would have been happy to stay there all day.

In the waterlily pond I saw two moorhens with chicks - one with one, the other with two. And still only the one mallard duckling. I don't understand why there are so few this year. One of my friends thinks that someone has been feeding the Seaton ducks with contraceptive spiked food all winter. I find that hard to believe, but there has to be some explanation for the almost total absence of ducklings. In normal years there are hundreds of them this time of year.

Anyway the local pub has now reopened under new ownership, with posh terrace furniture and even posher food. We had a couple of very pleasant drinks on the terrace, but opted for a Chinese takeaway on the way home.

(This has been typed in ten finger typing, with the splint off. It gets easier as the fingers get used to it and unstiffen, but this is enough and I shall put the splint back on again now. I've done my exercises...)

Swifts

Down to the creek this morning and the tide was out but the air was full of movement. Swifts, about twenty of them, chasing and whirling in and out and over the arches of the railway viaduct, squealing with delight and being sqawked at in return by the blackheaded gulls on the mud.

It's not a sight I see often down there - once a year or so, I suppose - although I remember last year seeing a group of them flying rings round the swallows up at Churchtown. Surely it can't already be time for them to be gathering themselves together ready to leave? Well, yes, it may be. They'll be gone within the next three weeks or so, anyway. I just hope I get the opportunity to admire their aerobatics again before then.

Clever Magpie!

I've just spent an hour watching the birds' breakfast bar, drinking tea and making plans for some one-handed housework (later, much later...)

First came the sparrows, of course, up to ten of them at a time vying for the four feeding positions at the seed feeders. There must be a relationship between colouring and competitiveness, as the more brightly coloured the males are the more aggressive they are at the feeders - but also it seems they more likely they are to have fledglings to feed and the more conscientiously they provide for them. As well as the sparrows there were blue tits and great tits, four of the former and two of the latter, a young blackbird who stopped for a rest with a beak full of brown slug, a brown blackbird with a bright orange beak - what sex would that be? - and a collared dove who inspected the crumb tray (empty till I get dressed) and flew off in disgust.

A magpie landed heavily on the crumb tray, scattering all the little ones. It looked carefully for crumbs, but there were none. Yesterday I watched a magpie perch on the crumb tray and try very hard to get its big beak into the peanut feeder, but today that was ignored. Something was going on, however. The hebe through which the feeder pole emerges was being given the serious cocked head and beady eye treatment. It was cautiously landed on and found to give way rather more than was comfortable. Back to the crumb tray for another think. By then I had spotted the prize - a largish lump of brown bread (in my defence, it's not easy crumbling crusts one handed) about four inches down from the top and six inches in from the side of the bush.

A second attempt, clinging on and hanging almost upside down - success! Well done, I thought. You worked hard for that bit of brekkie. It didn't take the bread away, however, but put it down on the crumb tray and tore it into smaller chunks to eat it, only leaving when it was all consumed. I am assuming that given the recent sogginess of the weather it was sufficiently moist not to require dipping in the water bowl before eating, something I have seen them do in the past.

The weather may be picking up a bit. There are some spectacular clouds but the sun is currently trying to blast a way through. Time to take Ty down to the creek, I think.

Unplastered

Today was my first visit to the fracture clinic since the operation. It started none too well, as I had decided to go by bus, which meant that I arrived five minutes late for my 2.55 pm appointment. When I apologised, the receptionist was all smiles. 'Not to worry, we've started late today anyway.' Not really kidding, she wasn't - it was ten past four when I was called in to the plaster room. All went well from then, though. The plaster and bandage dressing was removed, the wound and repair declared satisfactory, and I was sent home in a small splint the same as the one Judith wears for aquacise.

There's not just a plate across the wrist, that's just the top of a T shape which goes quite a long way down the front of my arm. It looks quite impressive on the x-ray. It feels much better, much more comfortable, although I've been given exercises to do which aren't altogether pain free at the moment. And if all goes well I don't have to go back for four weeks. I'm to be sensible, of course - no lifting, no doing too much, no driving. I've just checked, and typing's out, too, except for middle finger, which will peck a bit. Still, I'm sure it will come in time.

I saw my friend from the bed opposite, too. She was in having her cast removed and replaced with a lighter one, and looked very well, although she's still not able to put her foot on the ground.

I jumped on a bus into the city centre, as I was so close. Not that the bus went straight there, of course. It wandered all over the place, in and out of Asda, in and out of Marsh Mills retail park, and finally crunched into the back of a green car, luckily for me right outside the back door of Primark, my chosen destination. I left the drivers arguing and got Ron's new trackies, then on to my third bus of the day and home in time for tea. Wonderful, these new bus passes. Before, I could have done Derriford and back, or the city centre and back, but not the round trip.

Update Update!

I've just come back from taking the dog down the coombe to the creek and back (that mistle thrush was still singing) and looked out of the window to see my first great tit on the peanuts, and a wood pigeon scoffing this morning's crumb ration. Plus half a dozen sparrows, of course. There was a bang which probably wasn't a gunshot, and the entire bird population vanished from sight...

Bird Feeder Update

When it finally stopped raining about 8 pm last night I put out a tray of brown breadcrumbs and topped up the seed feeders, although it didn't look as if they had been used at all during the day.
By the time I had got back inside and looked out of the kitchen window a collared dove had commandeered the crumb tray, and methodically scoffed the lot! It even cleaned up the bits it had accidentally knocked on to the hebe under the feeder before departing.

As the evening cleared up - a bit of watery sun appeared low on the horizon - lots of collared doves started calling, and the goldfinches called each other together into a small flock before taking off somewhere. One particular goldfinch has selected as his song perch a TV aerial immediately opposite my office window - they are surprisingly loud. Well named, too; when they are in a flock their conversation sounds like someone rattling a gold charm bracelet.

I got up earlier than usual this morning and was rewarded by a family of blue tits at my bird feeder, the first I have seen actually in the garden. When I first looked there was one juvenile perched on top of the feeder watching the usual sparrow breakfast squabble. It had a tentative peck at the peanuts then skittered off into the silver birch just outside my fence, where I could see there were more blue tits. It obviously gave my feeder a good report, because two adults ad three juveniles all descended at once, testing the peanuts and the seeds. Oddly, when the sparrows saw all the excitement with the peanuts one of them had a good go too; normally they ignore them altogether.

The rain seems to have gone, although the sun which was shining straight into my eyes an hour ago has gone too behind a curtain of grey. Rain or no rain, the season marches inexorably on; last Monday I saw three black blackberries (possibly not properly ripe, but black anyway), one each on three different bushes at the edge of the coombe. Yesterday, in the rain, there were a dozen or so, almost one on every bush.

Deaf as a Post - but not for long

It has long been Ron's contention that I mumble - and long been mine that he's deaf. Many years ago in Spain he had his hearing checked, with the conclusion that although he was missing the top and bottom tones he had enough left in the middle to get by on. And so he has struggled on; with what he calls 'tin-ear', blighting the TV screen with subtitles, switching off on social occasions. One of his reasons for not getting anything done about it was a belief that hearing aids were either very expensive if purchased privately or involved a very long wait if pursued through the NHS.

Long wait or not, I decided something must be done and asked our GP about a hearing test. This was exactly five weeks ago. Today we had a trip to Derriford's Audiology Department and after a fascinating hi-tech test session he has had moulds taken of both ears and aids will be forthcoming in the very near future. Not a long wait at all - and it was quite a pleasant experience.

There is one slight worry; the Doctor was unhappy with his right ear as there appears to be another problem. He showed us on the graph that it was very different from the left, and two points which should have been close together were almost a page away. A 35 decibel difference, he said, which was very comprehensible! Anyway, he is passing this on to his colleagues in ENT so they can investigate further. In the meantime, I shall be much more laid back about subtitles and overloud music, knowing that it may not last too long.

The Big Rain

It's July, and it's raining. After several days of showers and high winds, today has been unrelenting. It was pouring with rain when I woke in the night, it was heavier when I got up, and it is still doing it now. It makes me feel even more uncapacitated - wriggling into a suntop and shorts or trackies, slipping on sandals, fairly easy one-handed - waterproofs take a lot longer and require assistance. I haven't seen a sparrow in the garden all day, nor heard any birds in the woods, with one exception; there was a thrush singing its heart out when I took the dog out around lunchtime, its voice soaring majestically over the swollen stream and making me aware once more that there really ARE things to be grateful for in this life.

As I write this at 7.30pm the rain has diminished to a drizzle and there are collared doves calling... perhaps the sun will return some time.

Grey Wagtails update

Down at the creek this morning I saw both grey wagtail adults and two fledglings, all happily pottering about in the mud and chattering to each other. The babies weren't begging at all, but seemed quite happy foraging for themselves. I had another collie and owner with me, and the birds were quite happy to ignore not just the humans standing still admiring them but also the dogs bounding about and splashing quite close.

I wonder who was responsible for the naming of wagtails? Why should it be that pied wagtails are grey, grey wagtails are yellow and yellow wagtails are, well, just a bit yellower?

Talking of yellow birds, there were two greenfinches in my garden yesterday evening. One adult male and one juvenile - not begging, just quietly confident with the seed feeders and the peanuts. It makes me happy to see adults bringing their young to my tiny garden patch; perhaps we will get a greater variety in the future...

Grey Wagtail Family

A pair of grey wagtails have been nesting just where the road crosses the stream at the top of the creek. It's never struck me as a particularly ideal spot, as a couple of waste water pipes join the stream just under the bridge and it's occasionally a bit soapy, but it's close to the mud and there's plenty of cover. I've been watching for signs of babies, and today I saw a fledgling sitting on a brick in the middle of the stream being fed. Although the tail is much shorter, it bobs just as enthusiastically as the adult, combining this with the usual wing fluttering and open mouthed crouching. Seems pretty effective...

There's been a new sparrow explosion in my back garden, too. Once more every adult seems to have a fledgling at each shoulder. I wonder why there seem to be far more males feeding fledglings than females?

Do You Need an Appointment?

My Ron's hearing has been deteriorating for years, and I have finally managed to persuade him to have it looked at. Last time it was checked, back about 15 years ago, he had lost all the high and low tones. but could just about get by on what was left.

The system for a hearing test is simple; see the GP, ask for a referral, get an appointment at the audiology department. The system for getting an appointment is a little more complicated, however. First we had a letter asking him to phone for an appointment. I did that, fixed a date, put it in the diary. Job sorted. Ha! Since then we have had confirmation letter. This confirmed his appointment and gave him some instructions on seeing the practice nurse and getting his ears cleared of wax before visiting the audiology dept. Fair enough, although I would have done that as an insert with the 'call for an appointment' letter. Job done? Apparently not. We had an automatic phone call this evening, requiring him (if he WAS him) to press 1 to confirm his identity, enter his DOB in six digits to prove it, press 1 again to confirm that he was going to be there next week. Job done? Let's hope so, this time...

The Kindness of Strangers

They are kind, strangers, as a general rule, although I somehow never quite expect them to be. And they have stranger stories than you expect, too.

A fellow dog walking acquaintance today loaned me an ingenious one handed folding knife and fork combo which will enable me to go out and eat in public with my broken wing, if I want to. I had noticed, but never speculated on, the fact that her right arm is held at an awkward angle and doesn't seem to be used much - it turns out that she had a stroke at age 15 and had to learn to use her left hand for everything. The eating implement she remembers as the best and most liberating present she ever received, and she has used them ever since. Not having to rely on others to cut up one's food is important!

I haven't used it yet, as Ron prepared an easy-eat chicken soup tonight. He is being very good. I shall have to practice eating with the implement before I take it out in public as it is apparently quite tricky to use without cutting or spiking oneself.

Swallows in the Shed

Back in May, I was in Downderry in workshop in a field one sunny afternoon when suddenly the building was descended upon by a small flock of swallows, careering round and round and arguing loudly. It seemed to me at the time that four of the flock stayed behind and the rest moved on.

I'd not been back till today - and there are two nests, only about three feet apart, up below the roof. Both nests are overflowing with loud babies almost at the point of fledging.

Tales from the NHS

On Sunday (yesterday) morning at 7.30 am I went to get my smashed wrist fixed at Derriford. I got home this afternoon at 6pm with it neatly rebuilt and wrapped in plasters and slings and things. Some of it is a bit of blur, to be honest, but on this day when the media is full of NHS 60th anniversary stories there are some clear snapshots worth remembering.



Arriving on the appointed ward at the appointed time and finding I was first on the list for surgery (good) but my allocated bed was unmade, and what's more never got the promised pillows... Nobody had time or inclination to explain to Ron what was happening or how he could get in touch later. Still, the bed was sufficiently prepared for me to go down to theatre only about 30 minutes behind schedule, someone stuck a venflon in the back of my hand and the next thing I knew it was all over. I was in recovery in extreme pain, with a button to push for pain relief.



I pushed it a couple of times until the pain went away and was returned, somewhat woozy but OK to the ward, where I was instructed to keep my arm elevated in a pillowcase pinned to a stand beside the bed, but I got into a row for not having it high enough, or was it too high, or was it that the bed was being moved up and down? Yes, and the under elbow pillow never arrived, either. And moving the bed kept pulling my oxygen out of the wall, but a kind girl in green got a longer tube. I was OK, however, until told I could get out of bed for the toilet, sat up and felt, but wasn't actually, sick. I was still feeling a bit queasy when Ron arrived; while he was there dinner was also delivered but one mouthful of rice from the sweet and sour something made me very sick indeed - all the several pints of water I had drunk. After that I dozed and started to feel better about nine - by 10.30 I was starving! "There's cheese & biscuits, yogurt or banana in the fridge." "Yes, please!" "Which?" "All of it!". And I ate all of it, later, plus Jaffa cakes Ron had brought me.

At 3am I was due a dose of antibiotics which involved putting in a new venflon as the first one had dislodged. From about 4 am the lady in the next bed was awake but confused, calling for her daughter and trying to get out of bed. Nurses occasionally came and went (usually when I summoned them to her because she was about to fall and hurt herself), but basically I spent the rest of the night listening to her if not talking to her.

By 9 am I had been issued with a fancy navy blue sling and been told that the only thing keeping me in was paperwork. After about 2.30 pm, when I discovered that the cut off point for getting out depended on whether the pharmacy was still open for painkillers to go home with (5pm) I started mentioning my predicament loudly to every passing NHS employee, in the hope that one of them would do something. I finally got my marching papers at 4.30pm, but was not just made to feel but actually told that I was being 'difficult' - and indeed keeping the doctor who had to sign the release from two very sick patients elsewhere!

Well, all I can say is that this is the only way that works. Opposite me was a small, quiet, polite lady, slightly older than me. Very reserved, very well mannered, accustomed to accepting authority, broken ankle. She had been there since Friday night and had never been free from pain, had not been visited by a consultant or a physiotherapist (or her husband, but he was not allowed because he had the flu). She was not aware that she could make phone calls. She was not a happy lady, but not the complaining type, and I learned most of this while we were up in the night with the 'confused' lady. So I did a little complaining on her behalf, and some asking for stuff and pointing out deficiencies. The first thing was some proper pain relief (she was written up for liquid morphine, she had been getting paracetamol), so she got some strength and some sleep, and by the time I left she had also been seen by physios etc and an ambulance had been ordered to take her home with a zimmer frame.

By contrast, on Monday afternoon a lady was wheeled in, complete with husband holding her hand, after some elective surgery. Confident, outgoing, greeted with a smile, people running round fetching her things, two physios walking her up and down the ward within ten minutes of arrival, etc.

And the 'confused' lady, who was being treated like a naughty, forgetful child but seemed to me to be mostly dehydrated, had apparently been fine apart from having fallen and hurt her leg some 10 days earlier. But was getting worse each day.

I have nothing but praise for the clinical part of my treatment, but life on the ward was completely and utterly shambolic and disorganised. It was a big, rambling, mixed sex trauma ward, although within the individual bays it was mostly all male or all female. There was no one in overall charge at any time, and although there were a lot of staff about it was impossible to know who to talk to. 'Uniform' in any meaningful sense, is totally absent. They all wear cotton tunics except the ones with nylon coats, of course. All conceivable styles and colours. Uniforms should identify roles clearly. Doctors are like sixth formers at the end of term; dressing up because they can, with absolutely no regard for hygiene or practicality. There were at least two competing regimes in the 8 beds Icould observe from my own, with two different drug rounds, observation and tidying lists. My bed was never properly made in the first place and not once did anyone attempt to tidy me up, but then once I was awake I was on it rather than in it anyway, more comfortable sitting crosslegged than trying to lie down. I had my temperature taken twice in ten minutes once, by two different nurses. I had the little clip put on my finger and the BP machine started with the cuff wrapped round the stand, not my arm. Because there was no control, no continuity, non assertive patients were ignored. Lies were told to shut people up (particularly the 'confused' lady) because that was easier than dealing with the situation. I heard a (presumably senior) member of the nursing staff tell my consultant that I hadn't been sick at all (because Ron had held the vomit bowl, emptied it and replaced it for me). She also said I was imagining the lack of oxygen supply, because a junior, greener, altogether nicer member of staff had gone and got a longer piece of tubing (possibly also because it was the senior nurse's constant fiddling with the height of the bed that caused it to come out the second time). I said never a word - what's the point?

I could go on, but I won't. Sadly, my experience is far from unique. I can see ways to improve the service, but the basic premise is now, sadly, flawed. And about to become a constant factor in my life, it would seem - Ron and I now have GP and an outpatients appointment each in the next week...

Lord save me from Your Friends

"Oh God, we need a miracle." Not words I expected to hear spoken in my own living room by an (uninvited) guest, issued in a conversational tone at nothing in particular. I enquire whether the apellant was perhaps not feeling too well, and was informed that it was ME that was being prayed for, to heal my broken wrist.

When I pointed out that even if I agreed that miracles were possible, which I don't, they would be inappropriate in the present context - bones usually healing themselves, with some practical medical assistance - he muttered darkly about all the people he had prayed for in The Ukraine being healed because they didn't realise who he was. As far as I recall, he had a three week holiday in Ukraine about five years ago. I've seen the holiday snaps - there were no obvious lame throwing their crutches away that I recall.

This sort of thing deeply offends me, as a committed anti-theist. Normally I am very tolerant of people's beliefs and practices, religious and otherwise, but not if it affects me personally. I asked him to stop praying for me. I went so far as to say that if he did not desist I would hit him (not with the plastered arm, though). He laughed. He may even have thought I was joking. Then he darted up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, said "Be healed!" and swiftly moved out of range. And that was unforgiveable.

I won't even let him take the dog for a walk, now...

I'm a Bird with a Broken Wing

It's worse than I thought, actually. I was at the fracture clinic for thee hours this morning, being x-rayed and prodded and ECG'd and things. The result is that the broken bones have spread themselves about and on Sunday morning they will take my wrist apart and put plates in. Hopefully it will then start to get better...

The coping isn't as upbeat as I first thought, either. I am actually surprisingly adept with my left hand, but there are so many things that need two! My hair is about two foot shorter than it was. I made Ron cut it to a length he could cope with, which is about bra strap length. I can comb it with one hand and he only has to put one band in it. It's quite long by normal standards, but shorter than I have had it for twenty years.

It is also, unfortunately, apparently a typical fragility fracture, which raises the spectre of osteoporosis. I shall leave thinking about that until after Monday, if they let me out on Monday.

What's the very worst thing about...

breaking your right arm? For me, anyway, the only thing I am finding impossible is doing my hair. It just isn't possible to wrestle waist length hair into submission with one hand, especially when it's the 'wrong' one. I'm sure I remember a time when I was surrounded by little girls who liked nothing better than fiddling with other people's hair, especially mine because there was so much of it, bu I can't find anyone now.

The (female) friend we were with for the weekend when it happened used to work in a hairdressers, although not, obviously, as a stylist, but couldn't get the concept of winding it into a bun and holding it against my head so I could slap a clip on it. Ron took several goes to manage getting an elastic band (well three, at 12 inch intervals) round it, but mastered the technique eventually shortly before I got the big scissors out. Not that they would have done me much good - they just don't work in the left hand at all.

Eating is also tricky and will have to remain a private struggle for now, cutting bread isn't very good, but most other things are possible. I have had a shower, with my right arm taped into a plastic bag, and I have hung out the washing. I have put the bread machine on, and I've found the bus timetable for my appointment at the fracture clinic on Friday. I have told Ron I can't wash up...

"It's for your own protection"!!

This is a bit of a rant. All those who approve of and understand banks and their call centres, ignore me, I'm just a grumpy old woman.

Last Saturday, I tried to get money from an ATM with my A&L debit card. It was refused, but as these things are not unknown I didn't pay much attention, just used another card from a different bank. Yesterday the same card was again rejected, this time in the Co-op, so as I had to go to the town where the nearest branch is this morning I thought I would call in and get things sorted out.

After the cashier had passed the card through her machine and confirmed that it was blocked, she called the 'branch hotline', was put on hold for five minutes or so, then went through several minutes of security checks involving details from my driving licence and my account before being told that they were unable to deal with it in that department, and that she should call another (callcentre) number. The first attempt involved another long wait, with her explaining the problem then being told to hand the phone to me to answer about ten questions, including whether I had an overdraft facility (yes), details of any direct debits and the colour of my grandmother's eyes. Then I was told that they could not deal with this in that department and I should call again to ask for an advisor. At this stage I passed the phone back to the cashier, but she fared no better; the girl who had taken all the details attempted (possibly) to transfer the call, but failed.

The cashier tried again, with much the same results. By this time I had been in the branch for about 45 minutes and was getting a little frustrated. This time, however, the interrogator actually managed to put me through to an advisor. Who advised me that the card had been blocked because they had detected some unusual activity. Had I used the card at 9.58pm on 13th June to pay Kodak Galleries a very small sum? No, hardly, I was in or around the swimming pool at the local leisure centre at that time. Right then, that's it, the account is blocked, your card (and your husband's) are now dead and new ones will arrive in about ten days. In the meantime, should you need any money, you are to phone this number, pass through the security system (what colour were my grandmother's eyes?) tell them how much money I would like from which post office and then they would phone the PO and tell them to expect me and my cheque book. Or turn up at the branch with said cheque book and my driving licence or passport and they will phone the branch hotline for you and get authorisation to part with the cash. Could you possibly authorise them to give me some money now, as I have my cheque book etc with me and I've been through your security process three times already? Thought not.

After waiting another ten minutes or so for the branch hotline to answer so that the cashier could go through the rigmarole again and ask for some cash for me I gave up and went home penniless. I had been in there for well over an hour and had other things to do. I have to confess that I did express my dissatisfaction to the cashier, not with her but with the system, and even muttered darkly about closing accounts, etc.

On reflection, I suppose that some security is obviously necessary, and it was really rather clever of them to detect a fraudulent transaction, especially for a 'negligible sum', but what should theoretically be simple (phone up, get authorisation, carry on with a smile) falls down because the phones aren't answered quickly enough because the operators are taking too long asking too many security questions before they even know what the problem is and then not being able to transfer calls to the correct department or to an advisor who can actually advise. Which means that clients are then having to make more calls and go through it all again, thus clogging up the lines for the next customer in the queue. And it's no comfort to be told that these calls are all free so it doesn't matter; it does, my time matters. In the end today I left without completing the transaction because I had been in branch for 75 minutes and had other things to do. And I am retired, so my time is more my own than most people's.

It's no use complaining, either. After all, it is all for my protection!

Wildlife Photographer? Not Me...

I glanced out of the window this afternoon to see two collared doves on the posh bird feeder, one on the tray and the other sitting right on the top, following the action with very careful attention. What a photo opportunity, I thought. Got the camera, remembered to switch it on before I got to the window, carefelly snuck the window wider open, aimed and fired. Bird on top is out of focus, bird on tray cannot be seen behind windowsill, whole thing is lopsided, etc. Then I remembered that Ron had shown me the zoom facility only last week. My 'subjects' were still posing nicely, so I went back for another go. Unfortunately, I forgot that the zoom is very, very loud, so I got a beautiful close up picture of an empty bird feeder in an empty garden, with two collared doves way in the background (and out of focus) sitting on next door's back fence.

My brother in law takes pictures of bats catching moths and that sort of thing. I'm beginning to understand just how much patience and practice it takes to produce photographs of that sort of quality, when a simple portrait of a posing bird in daylight is beyond me. Still, there are collared doves in my garden to add to the list...

Goldfinches...

...two of them, in my garden! Well, to be absolutely honest, one stayed on the fence while the other experimentally tested the spilled seeds on the ground under the feeder, but at least it's a start. They tend to go around in flocks, like the sparrows, so I hope they will tell their friends.

The picture is from www.FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Restormel to Lanhydrock walk

Yesterday the dog and I went for a 'proper' walk. We walk every day, of course, but usually down the coombe to the creek or around Churchtown community nature reserve. Every so often, though, we get together with some friends and go somewhere. As someone else decides the route, it is always a surprise and often a delight.

The weather forecast wasn't all that promising; it was quite cool in the morning and heavy showers were threatened, but as it turned out it was perfect walking weather, sunny and warm with a gentle breeze.

We met in Restormel Castle car park. I had never visited the castle, and I still haven't seen it, because it is invisible from the car park (surrounded by trees, although at the top of a hill) and I didn't have the time or the inclination to pay to look around it. There isn't all that much left, apparently. The first part of the walk goes in the a perfectly straight and almost level line through a farmyard, between fields, past a sewage works and more fields to a gate at the edge of the Lanhydrock estate. The walking is easy, and the views across the valley are typically pastoral and attractive.

Lanhydrock is a National Trust property described as 'the finest house in Cornwall... ... with 450 acres of woodland' ( www.cornwall-online.co.uk/heritage-trail/heritage-national-trust/lanhydrock/Welcome.asp ), and from the gate we entered the estate from the footpath winds round through the woods and slightly uphill to the house itself. As you get nearer to the house the woodland changes from native English to more and more exotic species, mostly magnolias and rhododendrons, and opens out into a spectacular vista of crenellated towers and green parkland.

The house and immediate environs are not dog friendly (there were three collies, including mine), although they do provide a place to tie them up with shade and water, and we weren't there to look at the house anyway, so we turned right down the main treelined avenue and found a spot to have our picnic.

After eating, we continued down to the main gate and turned right on the road the short distance to five arched medieval Respryn bridge, newly rebuilt after an articulated lorry listened to his Satnav instead of using his eyes. It crosses the river Fowey and the current is quite strong, as Ty discovered. He loves a swim, and his favourite game is to allow himself to go downstream as fast as the current and his legs will take him, then battle his way back, barking happily all the way, then do it again. Under the bridge, though, he aimed for the end arch, but was turned round and taken backwards through the second one. At least five times that I saw. He would have stayed there all day doing it over and over again, but we had to move on...

Plan A was to return to Restormel Castle by road, making it a circular walk, but it was a little busy so instead we reentered the estate and followed an attractive riverside path for a while, crossed by a wooden bridge and stopped to let the dogs play in the water again (the other two don't swim, but love to splash about) and meandered through the woods again until we got to the gate where we had first entered and retraced our steps along the good straight path to Restormel.

Greenfinch in my Garden!

Yesterday I wasn't sure, as I only caught a back glimpse as she flew away, but today I am certain; a female greenfinch is using the new posh bird feeder! That makes sparrows, blackbirds (mostly on the ground) magpies, jackdaws, wood pigeon patrolling for rejected seeds and one greenfinch! Word must be getting round...

There's a new plant in my garden, too. Apart from finally identifying the big red bush that is so attractive to bees and sparrows (jasminum beesianum) I have been given two cuttings of aeonium arboretum, a weird looking succulent with a rosette of almost black leaves at the top of a bare stem. My little jasmine cutting is growing apace, and the bits of ivy I stuck in at the base of the wall are all going strong. Last night I experimentally tried sellotaping them to the wall - if the sellotape lasts long enough for them to realise there's a wall behind them, perhaps they will start to cover it.

Jackdaw v Magpie

The posh bird feeding station is still not attracting any small birds apart from sparrows, but the big boys are making their presence felt. I have just watched a jackdaw eject a magpie from the feeding tray and defend it against an attempted return. This surprised me, as of the two magpies are larger and I'd have thought them more aggressive, but no. Magpies drink a lot; sparrows occasionally take a quick sip, other birds don't seem to bother, but the magpies actually seem to relish the water, even sometimes dropping their food in and eating it from the bowl.

At the same time as the jackdaw and magpie were jockeying for position on the feeder, a wood pigeon has come in and made itself very much at home pecking away on the ground below the fence seed feeder, obviously clearing up the sparrows' leftovers.

And having said the other day that there were no collared doves about, I have just seen a pair, not in my garden but on the path at the edge of the coombe.