Early Frost

If you peer into the noise at the bottom of this shot, you may spot the bird feeders hanging from the rhus tree in our garden. The illuminated privy behind it is our neighbour's bottom-of-garden shed. The frosted fields beyond are part of the valley known as The Heavens. Our end of Stroud is in a larger valley that continues along the A419 towards Cirencester, called the Golden Valley.

Moments later, I caught sight of the Great Spotted Woodpecker perching on the peanut feeder. I've heard it drumming for a while, but today was the first time I've seen it. Most years, they start coming to us to feed around this time. Later, they raise their young and there's a glorious week or so when they come to the rhus tree and show the little ones how to search for grubs under the bark, and to peck the peanuts. I look forward to that time already.

My blipname is chosen in honour of these little-big birds that have given me such pleasure since moving to this house 12 years ago. I've never taken a good shot of one, because they are shy and fly off at the slightest noise. Of course, there is also the famous brand of Bulmer's Woodpecker cider, with the green bird on the red label, which is indeed how I cut my teeth on alcohol, aged twelve, while staying with relatives who believed in drinks-for-all. I'm still a cider drinker, but have never liked the Wurzels. (Pity, because they're always playing Stroud)!

Watched an interesting documentary about a double agent, but unfortunately fell asleep before I could hear about his scaling the walls of Wormwood Scrubs and going back to eke out his days in the USSR. CleanSteve and I took it in turns to sleep through the entire programme in shifts.

On that happy note, I must say goodnight and return to my uber-trash novel, Blood in the Cotswolds. Bomble is asleep on the bed already, so he;ll never know that there's been another murder.