Home thoughts

Turned out nice again

The wren started its day early, kicking in singing ten minutes after the blackbird. The collared dove and a woodpigeon had joined in by five o'clock, the dawn chorus reboot in full swing. The robin sings occasionally, just enough to mark its territory and no more, I hope that's a sign of breeding success rather than despair. 

The young magpies rattle about, when they're not pestering their parents they're chasing each other round the school playing field. There's a couple of dozen magpies kicking about the school grounds most days. I noticed a hedgehog corpse down the road yesterday, I hope it's not the boar that's been adopted by my cat and allowed the run of the food bowl. Nature being red in tooth and claw the corpse provided a source of tidbits for one of the magpies to feed to its youngsters.

The day was spent supporting my dad as he was led along a wild goose chase. Consolations were finding a colony of house martins at Woodsend Circle and some swifts as we passed Trafford General on the bus.

Any ideas of going for a late teatime stroll were put on ice as much by my feeling the effects of only having 2½ hours' sleep last night as by the sudden appearance of glowering skies (and the disappearance of the rooks and woodpigeons from the school playing field). The clouds fulfilled their promise and we had an hour of rolling sheets of water and hail. God knows, the gardens need it but I suspect there'll be a few localised flash floods about.

The official end of the storm was marked by the songs of the blackbirds, the robin and the wren. As is appropriate.