Yes I've changed the template yet again, variety being the spice of life after all. And I’m feed up with all the rain we’re getting, it’s about time it stopped and we had some sunshine instead.

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As previously promised today’s pictures are of Lower Brockhampton House in Herefordshire.

Whilst there it only seemed polite to visit the coffee shop and sample the home made cakes. The birds around there aren’t at all frightened of the public and quite happily land on your table to eat the crumbs. There were breeds of birds that I haven’t seen since my childhood.

I got talking to the lady who runs the tea room and she told me that she feeds them all year round, even when the property is closed, she still makes the time to bring food and fat balls in the winter. She’s watched the same birds rear their young year after year, and the youngster come back too.

A nutcracker and a pair of tits (I know, but it was too good an opportunity to miss).

A female moorhen and chicks not at all bothered by the members of the public walking around the moat.


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The cat has obviously had a serious falling out with the mouse population of the village, where as before she’d bring them home alive – we are now getting only mortal remains.

Twice last night the little sod woke me up with that meow that heralds the arrival of her and a guest, the first time being around 2am. I threw the mouse out of the window ready to pick up in the morning, and then again around 4.30ish. This time I didn’t get out of bed quick enough and she started to eat it. I can put up with many things, but the crunching of bones fair turns my stomach. I woke both Himself and Youngest with my scream of ‘LUCY’. And we’ll have no comment about me having a big mouth, thank you very much.

We then had the usually – ‘That’s it, from now on the bloody window is staying closed at night, are you listening to me?’ off Himself. I don’t bother arguing about it, we both know full well that he’ll close it when he comes to bed and at some point in the night, I’ll get up and open it again. But he obviously feels the need to say these things, and just as obviously I need to ignore them. It works well, and marriage is all about compromise after all.

Himself wasn’t at all pleased with me this morning either – apparently when I’d thrown the mice out of the window they’d landed on the roof of his car. The crunched up one had very inconsiderately bleed on his paintwork too. Personally I think he should have taken it up with the cat, I didn’t kill them after all.

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Pooks is preparing for her interview tomorrow so for safety’s sake we all need to walk around on tiptoes. The Irish are, um…. what word can I safely use? Expressive, that’s it. Pooks is expressive at the best of times – but she’s now on the cusp of becoming very expressive. I’m sure that everyone sends her good luck wishes, even if they don’t actually send the email. It’s the thought that counts after all. A bit like sending feedback. Oops! Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that!