It was a slightly cooler, lovely day with a welcome breeze. Try as I might I couldn't do anything with it, two nights without sleep took their toll. I sat and watched the titmice in the garden, the young blue tits not quite grasping that the idea is to sit on the inside of the rowan tree canopy not loaf about on the outer twigs in full view, and the young great tits barging about in the sycamores like drunken monkeys. I wonder if the blackcap's being productive of anything much more than incessant song. Fingers crossed there'll be more fluffy bundles barrelling into the garden.
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| Orrell Water Park |
I couldn't not do anything with a nice day like this so I dragged myself out of the house mid-afternoon. I won't bore the reader with the sequence of indecisions that led me to be sitting by the lake at Orrell Water Park late teatime thinking that there are worse things in this life than this. A family of mallards sat under the bench behind me, Canada geese crowded about the car park and half a dozen black-headed gulls flew in to pick midges off the lake.
On the way home I noticed that the mute swans on the Bridgewater Canal by Patricroft Bridge had six cygnets in tow.
It does no harm once every so often to be reminded to stop and breathe.
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