Saturday, 9 June 2012

Wet, Wet, Wet

Indeed, it feckin' is. 

Everytime I venture out, I get wet.  Three damp dog walks yesterday, just about dry after the first and it's time for the second.  And so on.

S.A.D?  Not usually a sufferer, but this week, yes.  And as I type, the sun's out.  And when I stop, it will, doubtless, rain again.

And the birds are as dry as the weather is not.  The Guv and Crammy, like a re-run of the BBC wildlife programme of the 70s, Man and Boy, emerged from Arcot as I arrived, and nothing to report.  Not even worth gtting out of the car.  If The Guv and 'Lucky Phil' can't find anything, then there's nothing to find.  And it was raining....

A bijou stroll-ette along Beacon Lane disturbed the Little Owl who was sitting on a post along the lane (Note to self: Even when wearing wellies, sneak as opposed to goose-step!).  But not a Crossbill in sight.

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