Stratford

One of yesterday's errands was to collect a parcel that I'd had delivered to a shop in Stratford. Imagine my amusement when I got home and discovered the parcel they'd handed over to me wasn't mine - I should have checked before leaving the shop, of course, but somehow I can't seem to train myself out of expecting a basic level of competence from professional people. 

Must do better.

Anyway, the necessity to take the stupid thing back this afternoon did at least afford me the chance to check the reed beds and bankside vegetation around Lucy's Mill Bridge, which turned up a clutch of Banded Demoiselles and a couple of Blue-tailed Damselflies, though no dragons as yet. Once again there was a very strong smell of soap hanging over the river, suggesting that even though there's been no significant rain for several weeks now, Severn Trent are up to their usual sewage dumping tricks. This country, eh? So much better since we Brexited and took back control.

Grumpy? Moi? Well... perhaps just a bit.

R: C2, D14.