Cree

More rain. I wonder how much more damp weather I can take. The paths are all churned to slippery mud and the house stinks of damp dog. But a gap in the weather forced me out and as I was crossing the fields near the ruins of Chapel Walls I saw some pigeons mobbing a young crow who was obviously trying it on. They swirled around my head, tumbling and swooping through the sky as the crow taunted them, like a teenager on a motorbike. Eventually he got bored and soared straight up into the sky leaving the outraged pigeons to flutter and eventually settle.

I love this ramshackle pigeon cree. It is a piece of old Wolsingham, made even more special by the fact that there is a brand new 'executive' development of five bedroomed homes next to it. The pigeons extravagantly coo and preen themselves in this tatty, smelly old shed within yards of where the owners of the executive homes sip their Pinot grigio and munch on the garlic ciabatta. You can see them at their vast windows, their faces tense with anger as they curse the 'vermin' depreciating the value of their vile houses.