My little friends

 

I have recently had a massive invasion of mice. Someone left a bird fat ball in the scullery, the result being a family of HUGE plump rodents settling in. The smell of next door's cat did not seem to bother them in the slightest but, thanks to a humane trap, they are all now happily established in the garden compost heap.

Lizard

 

When I see a lizard I feel that time has suddenly reversed by thousands of years - almost like meeting a dinosaur.

The Daffodils speak out

 

Looming too near our jocund crowd,

Stood Wordsworth, muttering aloud.

No one could catch Testudo graeca when he put a spurt on

 

I simply cannot resist posting some of my drawings and cartoons.  There will be more to come in the future.

Doing something badly

I have taken up drawing late in life and am not very good at it - such a pleasure! After decades of striving to achieve in other areas and feeling disappointed if I fail, I accept that my sketch book will always be mediocre at best. No-one needs to know and nothing is at stake. I can gaze lovingly at my amateurish efforts and colour them with delicious tints, reverting to childish enjoyment despite the outcome. But today I produced a passable thrush, albeit so plump that it couldn't leave the ground, and I'm worried that the process of improvement and anxiety has started. Tomorrow I shall attempt a massive landscape and go back to square one with a sigh of relief. And - sorry folks - there is no illustration on this post for obvious reasons.

WISTERIA

I just love wisteria, particularly as it grows around my neighbours' back door and forms a frame which I can enjoy across our little courtyard. It seems a miracle that each huge yet delicate clump of pale purple blossom was ever packed inside a bud.

MY METER CUPBOARD

The interior of my meter cupboard is terrifying. For years I had never seen it because a pleasant tall man would come, gaze at the meter, click his tongue in sympathy, write something down and go away. But now I never have such a visit and I have to get a ladder and a torch and climb up there, press a little button, squint at the day figures, ignore the one that looks like reading but is the date and another that is, deceptively, the time and finally achieve the night digits.(The two rarely add up to the total given and so I have to begin again.) Worst of all I need to brave the family of HUGE hairy spiders who dwell there and adore being in the limelight for ten minutes, running around before preening themselves and posing egotistically. Perhaps I shall just stop using any electricity at all!