Fleeting

Bird photography involves:

1. A person other than me
2. Holding camera very still (and preferably a tripod)
3. A good lens
4. Patience
5. Getting outside

So, lazy, impatient, unwell me, inside the house, without a tripod, shooting from the sofa, through a dirty window isn't really much cop.

It would help if goldfinches a) weren't so shy and b) liked to pose for a while in order for me to focus.

I'm suffering with the stupid virus more than ever today. I woke up feeling like someone had attacked my back with a big stick. It aches all the way down. My eye sockets ache too and my head. I can't go for more than a few minutes without coughing and that's making my chest really hurt. Ow ow ow ow. Poor me. :o(

Joel is heaps better and has been watching a lot of Top Gear today.
I HATE TOP GEAR!!!
I actually loathe it in a physical, screamy "Get me out of here!" way.
Jeremy Clarkson is a total dick.
I tried to go back to sleep this morning after Tess had gone to school but it was impossible with brumming and Clarkson coming from the sitting room. I hate it even more now.

This afternoon I set up camp in the conservatory with my camera and iPod and hot drinks. I wanted to see the sky and the garden and the birds and hear the outside world - even if I was too ill to get outside. And I wanted some time to reflect on my Dad's life and death.
I put on some Miles Davis - even though it's never been my taste previously, simply because Dad adored him. I downloaded an album of his late last night when I couldn't sleep called Sketches of Spain and I really like it.

Mum and my sisters are missing and remembering Dad today, too. Mum forwarded a couple of emails to us from people who are thinking about her today. One reminded me of the pressure to get him back to Devon before he died and how fast everything went, and how out of control we all felt.

Four years.
It's a long time to not see someone you love.

It doesn't get any easier, you just learn to carry the pain.