It is winter ...

I mentioned my earworms yesterday - the words "It is winter..." unforgettably intoned by the choir in Michael Tippet's oratorio A Child of our Time slid into my mind today as I slogged uphill in Benmore Gardens, surrounded by the snowy hills of Cowal. We've not had much of winter this year, but today certainly qualified. We were shadowed on our downhill path by a very puffed-out little bird that I took to be a greenfinch - a real flash of colour bright on the stony path.

Other than that hour's walk, I don't know where today has gone. In ten minutes I'll be going out to choir, but I mustn't leave blipping till I'm home; it makes me too late all round. Mr PB was meeting with The Rev (I'm pinching his wife's name for him!) to discuss Easter; in church terms these arrangements begin on Ash Wednesday so there's a lot to discuss with a still-quite-new rector. This involved much yelling upstairs to me to check service times last year; keeping a diary means I tend to know such things. I, on the other hand, was trying to keep track of my Italian pronouns and plurals ...

I thought my blip deserved a bit of colour for a change, so here's the meal I made after the ecclesiastical plannings were over. Prawns, green beans, red pepper, spring onions, garlic, chilli pesto and pasta. It was as delicious as it looked.