London evening

It’s well after 9pm, and we’re still sitting over the last of the wine beside the patio doors, wide open to the balmy evening. A random red decoration from a recent birthday hangs beside a tiny sickle of moon - you can just see it disappearing off the top of the photo. And the real subject of the photo stalks - a little gingerly - into the garden which by night is the haunt of foxes. This is Ginny the cat, 19 human years old, who has been an indoor cat all her days.

Another family get-together which has me reflecting on the absurdities of modern life: from birdsong on Loch Fyne yesterday to the blackbird above a London garden tonight.

And so to bed ...