Fuzzy Cygnets

Indie got me up early. She always does. I don't mind, at least in summer. After breakfast, I set off for a walk down to Bowbridge and along the canal towards Brimscombe port. This part of the canal has been under restoration for years and provides a green corridor for walkers, dog walkers and cyclists, as well as a wildlife habitat, of course. Angling is permitted in season. I gather it's not the season yet, but I did see a group of painters and their tutors setting up their easels en Plein air near an old hump back bridge.

I found a pair of swans and their eight(!) cygnets, but couldn't get a decent shot because they kept moving about. (I know, excuses, excuses...) I walked and walked and kept on walking until at last I reached the canal bookshop, near Brimscombe port. There I bought a John Le Carre and a bundle of Dick Francis novels for CleanSteve and a few paperbacks for myself, plus the Essex Serpent, because it's streaming now on one of the platforms.

The books were heavy, but I struggled home, via the Brimscombe shop for a lottery ticket and Griffin Mill, where I checked the price of the framed print I blipped last Sunday. Yes, it's still for sale, and beautiful, but it's £120! Not for buying today, I feel.

Back home, I set up the parasol and we had lunch outside, then I brought the jigsaw out. Later I retired to the cabin to read, and heard a rumpus on the roof. This is nothing new, so I ignored it. When I eventually realised it was time to feed Indie and headed inside, I got a nasty surprise. On the sitting room rug lay a dead squirrel. Clearly that's what the noise had been about.

Indie is a small cat. She weights two kilos. A couple of weeks ago she was bringing in tiny shrews. Now it's rats and squirrels. What will it be next: badgers? I am definitely going to lock her cat flap every night. Badgers have very sharp claws.