(Man-eating) black swans

Yesterday the housekeeper warned us to take care around the resident black swans. From that point onwards, they earned the epithet 'man-eating'. This morning we set out to track them down as we took a walk across the fields. We saw three in total - the blipped couple on one pond, and a third bird on another. Happily everyone returned safely to the house, and not a single male relation was harmed.

After a fabulous cold picnic-style lunch eaten outside on the terrace, most of the party made a trip to Glastonbury. I was amongst the others who stayed at the house. My main role was to entertain my youngest nephew Freddie while his pregnant mother slept. We played Exploding kittens, Dobble, and Azul, recruiting Freddie's grandparents to the gaming table when necessary.

This evening we ate outside again. After drinks on the terrace (Pimms made by one brother-in-law, Champagne supplied by another) we worked our way through a barbecue feast. A flaming firepit helped keep us warm as the sun set. Freddie played football while the rest of us chatted (extra).

Over the course of the day we have learnt a little about the owners of this house. Looking at the family photos on display has turned into a game of 'So this must be...', with occasional cries of 'Look who's here!'

Exercise today: small amount of walking (7306 steps).