SPOTTED

There's a reason it's called a great spotted woodpecker - you feel great when you have spotted one. We hear them all the time in the mature trees in a distant garden and they call by our bird feeders for a quick snack, but they don't hang around long enough for me to swop lenses and get into a good position. I was on the phone when he passed through this morning, so this was a one handed shot, but at least his bright red spot that tells you he is male is clearly visible.

Later to Braehead (pause while I curse, spit and make the sign of the cross) to help my visually impaired pal change some sweaters. Shame on M & S, they have silently instituted a new rule that you can't change goods after a few paltry weeks. I was all for sticking our ground until they brought out the manager, but my pal could not be bothered and she was probably right. We consoled ourselves with a trip to Largs and a big ice cream for her and a very small one for me. It was still and warm (9C) and felt so different from recent weather.