Today is International Dawn Chorus Day. As if to emphasise the matter, all the feathered hooligans are in fine fettle, whether it's the wren and the blackcap blasting out their song from amongst the brambles; or the sparrows and goldfinches chirruping from the treetops; or Frankie Howerd the cat muttering to itself from next door's garage roof.
The cat I don't have made damned sure I was awake for it by jumping on my head at four in the morning.
Friday the 13th
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What horrors await us today?
The realization that only 43 days are left in the Biden-Harris
administration.
Isn't that enough?
Other than that bit of...
3 days ago
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6 comments:
Wouldn't life be desolate without birdsong?
Having Frankie Howerd sitting on one's face at 4 in the morning is an image I am now trying (so far in vain) to banish from my mind.
No! Stop it! Don't titter...
Absolutely. Just been making toast at Morrissey Mansions to the sound if a chaffinch in the car park next door
I am> sorry. Frankie Howerd is The Cat I Do Not Have's arch-nemesis. They can both get very arch.
There's also the ascending "Oo-oooh!"
I swear I once heard it mutter: "The prologue…"
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