This book heroes 20 commonly found plants growing in the front gardens of one road in London. Ben’s observations in Grove Park – such as hollyhocks growing at number 92 being ‘serotonin for the summer soul’ – are insightful and full of joy. Ben takes us with him as he walks up and down the street in all weathers and seasons, often with his baby in tow.
The book is so much more than the sum of the 20 plants and the front gardens they call home. He cleverly uses the front gardens as a vehicle to share both local and botanical history. The Grove is packed full of fascinating facts, as well as quotes from relevant poems, books and journals. It’s very carefully researched and in each chapter whilst Ben starts with a single plant he takes us to a much bigger world, that unfurls like a beautiful flower as you turn the pages.
His career as a gardener enables him to give a wider perspective. In the chapter about the rose, he observes, “The need to do causes more damage in gardens than benign neglect ever has.” He shares snippets of his experiences gardening for others, including the very wealthy.
I lived in London for a decade, in two flats, two maisonettes and in a small townhouse. My routes to and from work would always take the most botanical route possible. In a world of concrete and tarmac the seasonal highlights shone out like beacons. Spring was astounding. The parks decorated with cherry blossom and houses draped in wisteria were a much needed balm. Thank you Ben for taking me back there and reminding me of the joy plants brought to my life as I walked around the city and overcame physical and mental health challenges. Having grown up living next to a garden centre, London was something of a shock to the system. The plants were a connection to home, colours and scents dialled up as they nestled against their grey, urban backdrop.
I was given a free copy of the book in return for an honest review, by Random Things Tours.
Hannah is the author of The Cactus Surgeon, a nature & health memoir. Living in London, Hannah suffered burnout and was diagnosed with a functional neurological disorder. With no information available to help her, she found her own way to get better.
Growing up in a garden centre, her childhood was full of nature and plants. This was in stark contrast to the concrete of the capital, where she became unwell. In searching for the answers to her illness, she wonders whether being torn from her pot and replanted in a more hostile environment was the reason her body started to malfunction.
After seeking out alternative therapies, and moving to the countryside of North Essex, her ‘green recovery’ continued. It’s a book of mindful moments, savouring the small wonders of nature.
Life & Death Decisions by Dr Lachlan McIver packs a punch and gets a five-star rating from me. It gave me everything I want from a memoir, containing jaw-dropping stories, a reminder of human resilience and fragility and a warning about the very real consequences of climate change.
The medical challenges Lachlan has faced as a doctor in Australia and the Pacific Islands are not for the faint-hearted. He has saved countless lives, often in the most basic of conditions. We follow his journey from job to job, battling to save strangers from illnesses, accidents, tropical diseases and war wounds. All the time wishing there was more medicine, staff and equipment.
Lachlan’s own foray into medicine came after the sudden death of his father in a bid to prevent anyone else from suffering a similar tragedy. He throws himself into study, work and life with an unnerving attraction to risk, hard work, booze and drugs. His fearlessness as a doctor keeps him going for years until alcoholism catches up with him, he crashes into bankruptcy and depression and learns that if you don’t rest your mind and body, it will catch up with you. I, too, have learnt this the hard way, although, in retrospect, my experience has been extremely tame compared to Lachlan’s!
His writing matches his character, quickly moving us from event to event. There is some reflection but little time to dwell on things too much. Again and again, his life moves on, and he moves from place to place to find fulfilment and happiness, chasing opportunities in 30 countries worldwide.
Lachlan’s experiences show us climate change is having a negative effect on human health, with communities in tropical places finding their weather patterns are changing and diseases are becoming much more common. I love how he combines his doctoring with his work for the World Health Organisation and Medicins San Frontieres. He isn’t afraid to take risks, yet it’s clearly his talent for rural medicine, data analysis and spotting trends that opens many doors. This book will inspire you to follow your dreams. It will also warn you to look after the planet and yourself along the way.
I was given a free copy of the book in return for an honest review, by Random Things Tours.
Hannah is the author of The Cactus Surgeon, a nature & health memoir. Living in London, Hannah suffered burnout and was diagnosed with a functional neurological disorder. With no information available to help her, she found her own way to get better.
Growing up in a garden centre, her childhood was full of nature and plants. This was in stark contrast to the concrete of the capital, where she became unwell. In searching for the answers to her illness, she wonders whether being torn from her pot and replanted in a more hostile environment was the reason her body started to malfunction.
After seeking out alternative therapies, and moving to the countryside of North Essex, her ‘green recovery’ continued. It’s a book of mindful moments, savouring the small wonders of nature.
Brown Clee is the highest hill in Shropshire, standing at 540 metres. On the first day of our holiday, we (my husband, daughter and I) set off to the top from our Air BNB because a previous guest mentioned it was a nice thing to do. There was an OS map on the wall, so we took a quick picture and set off with a couple of snacks and some water.
It was much further and steeper than we thought it might be, so it took us quite a long time to reach the car park where everyone else was starting their walk. The footpath cut in half a farmer’s yard, and we peeked into barns full of sweet-smelling calves too young to leave their mothers. We followed a sun-baked narrow trail through shoulder-high bracken, interrupted only by head-height pink fronds of Rosebay Willow Herb. There was the occasional squeal of ‘Watch out! Dog poop!”. Then, we entered a dark forest carpeted with antiseptic-smelling pine needles. I made everyone stop and listen. We drank in the bird song as it filled our ears in stereo. Emerging from the trees, we found the hills in front of us had been painted with acres of purple heather.
The summit was in sight. We made our way along the unexpected but very welcome tarmac path. Yes! We grinned our best Cheshire Cat smiles and drank in the spectacular view whilst scoffing our last few malted milk biscuits and found someone to take our picture. Proof of a magical day.
Gravity played a helping hand as we descended the now familiar route. We arrived home well past lunchtime, starving but feeling fantastic. I’m glad we didn’t know in advance it would be so far. If we did, we might have been tempted to drive to the car park, and the walk would have been a lot less satisfying. Sometimes it pays to be spontaneous.
We even went up Brown Clee again on our last holiday day. We were up at 7 am, ready for the challenge. Mind you, we started from the car park this time, there was absolutely no need to prove ourselves a second time. I stopped half way to watch a smooth, coffee-brown slow worm which lay across the path. The view from the summit was covered in clouds, but we didn’t mind. Boy, it felt good to be up and about before anyone else. We like to think we were the first people up the hill that day, and for five minutes or so, we were definitely the highest people in all of Shropshire.
It’s my stop on the blog tour for The Accidental Detectorist: Uncovering an Underground Obsession by Nigel Richardson.
I was intrigued when I read the blurb for this book. I love the English countryside, and nothing gives me more thrill than the turquoise flash of a kingfisher or the discovery of a spotted woodpecker feather. So I completely understand the attraction of metal detecting and the hit of dopamine they must get as they find something interesting. Yet, like many others, I have always considered metal detectorists a bit comical. Nigel says of the first wave of amateur metal detectorists in the 1980s, “The occasional sighting of them (it was always blokes), stuttering about haplessly in a field or on a beach, triggered in onlookers feelings of hilarity and pity.”
The book has given me a glimpse into their world, and there is far more to it than I ever thought. Each detectorist find provides a link between the field or shore they stand on and the people who have lived or travelled there in years gone past. I enjoyed the historical facts and stories woven into the book and the leaps of faith Nigel made with some of the objects he found – to create plausible stories linking them back to his house and the people who once lived there.
This all piqued my own interest in my local area in North Essex. I went onto the finds.org.uk database and typed in Layer Marney, the name of the village where I live. My house is less than a mile from Layer Marney Tower, England’s tallest Tudor gatehouse, so surely there is treasure in these parts? The database has five finds listed, including this beautiful hammered coin. In the local parish of Messing cum Inworth where I grew up, there are finds from Iron Age, Roman, Medieval and Post Medieval times. We are but a stone’s throw from Colchester or Camulodunum to call it by its Roman name as it is the UK’s oldest recorded city. Boudicca and her armies once razed it to the ground. On the database are many Roman coins in the area, perhaps borne by those fleeing her persecution. I shall walk the local footpaths with a new fascination for what may lie under my feet and the people who walked these fields in years gone by. It’s particularly poignant this week. Today Charles the third will be proclaimed King, as we pass from the Elizabethan age into the Carolean age. History in the making.
Back to the book and it was his observation of people I most enjoyed. Nigel met several detectorists on his travels around the UK and took time to understand their motivations. The next time I see one trudging across a field with headphones on, I will pay them much more respect. As Nigel informs us, these days this merry band of men (and a few women) is responsible for finding the vast majority of the 1.5 million objects recorded on finds.org.uk, a voluntary recording programme run by the British Museum.
Nigel is humble and self-deprecating and, as you would expect from a professional travel writer, presents us with a book which is extremely well structured, engaging, witty and charming. In the first few chapters, I could feel his palpable sense of being the new boy in the world of metal detecting, like a pupil on their first day at school. It’s a fascinating read for anyone who is interesting in local history, the countryside or who fancies learning a bit more about those strange blokes who sweep their toys back and forth in our fields.
I was gifted a copy of the book by Hachette, in return for an honest review.
Hannah is the author of The Cactus Surgeon: Using Nature to Fix A Faulty Brain. It’s a memoir which charts her experience of reconnecting with nature after suffering burnout and being diagnosed with a functional neurological disorder. With no information available to help her, she found her own way to get better.
Warning: does include mention of dentists, injections & blood tests.
A couple of weeks ago, I fainted in the dentist’s chair after watching a huge needle approach. I closed my eyes, felt it go into my gum, and started to feel weird. I signalled to the dentist to stop, and she put the chair up. I said, “No, I think I need my head to go down, not up”. And everything went dark.
“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Are you with us, Hannah?”.
I woke up to find a fan blowing on me and a few concerned faces peering down. Even the receptionist was in the room. I was offered a glass of sugared water and some sugar tablets and after a few minutes the procedure continued.
It was a hot and muggy day. I’d had a fairly light salad for lunch, and it was now late afternoon. I had my period. I might have been a bit dehydrated. And, it all felt strangely familiar. This was not my first time.
As a child, I had to have a tetanus injection when I got bitten by a mole. That’s a story for another time but I do remember hanging my head out of the car on the way home feeling decidedly unwell.
When I had my first ear pierced I felt sick and had to be taken outside for some fresh air before the second was pierced. I also have vague memories of fainting in a PE lesson and before a university exam (after which I was taken to the medical centre and was diagnosed with glandular fever. I took the rest of my exams in my pyjamas, and passed!).
In 2021, the ZOE app asked me to do a finger prick blood test to check for Covid 19 antibodies. I had to ask my husband to squeeze the blood out, as I couldn’t face it. He did so whilst I looked away then I got on the tiled floor and asked him for a cushion to put under my legs. He looked at me like I was mad but I knew that if I didn’t get my head below my heart, I would faint. I went very cold and sweaty and was huffing and puffing. My husband had never seen me like this and wasn’t really sure what was happening. Once recovered I think he may have laughed when he realised that this was all in response to a tiny prick in my finger and losing less than a teaspoon of blood. Thankfully the cushion did the job and I didn’t faint, but it was close.
I’ve learnt to look away if I have an injection or blood taken. I was absolutely fine having my three C19 vaccinations. So, going back to my latest experience at the dentist, why, oh why did I keep my eyes open to see the huge needle approaching my gum?!
I’ve had plenty of dentistry work before, and I’m not squeamish or nervous about the thought of pain or injections. Yet, something about needles tells my brain that I need to get my head below my heart. It’s not something I can control.
Rest assured, I will mention my most recent episode to a GP, but as I told the dentist, “I am a bit of a fainter”.
I’ve just had the best weekend in Amsterdam. I wanted to go to Floriade, a horticultural expo which only runs once every ten years. It was stunning, and I combined it with a family sightseeing weekend. It was my first trip back to Holland since a three-day school excursion to Belgium, Luxemburg and the Netherlands. I couldn’t remember much of that first visit and was blown away by the architecture, the canals and the general atmosphere.
My tummy, however, had a terrible time. I wrote this not to garner pity but to explain what it is like to have IBS and to remind others who suffer that they are not alone. I tried hard to avoid high FODMAP foods, which I know trigger symptoms. I did well in avoiding dairy and gluten-free foods, but garlic and onion was all but impossible. I could have had a five to ten-minute conversation in each restaurant to grill them about the ingredients, but frankly, that takes away the pleasure of eating out.
So, each time I had a meal, I became bloated and looked like I was six months pregnant. I was in a lot of pain at times and then began the process of dispelling the wind. I’ll be honest, that was not pleasant for my family or me, especially when you are staying in a small apartment.
I don’t eat any high FODMAP foods at home, so I don’t have to worry too much when I dine out. Eating all my meals in restaurants for three days was just too much.
It was not all doom and gloom. I did have some wins!
I came across a breakfast café which did boiled eggs and ordered two with no bread, much to the bemusement of our waitress. The Dutch do not hold back their emotions, and her face told me she thought I was very weird!
I also found the best gluten-free bagel EVER in Bagels and Beans, a recommendation from Becky Excell, who also recommended Piqniq. Again, fantastic gluten-free bread, and I even got a gluten-free, dairy-free ‘snickers bar’. After watching my husband and daughter devour crepes, stroopwafel, ice cream, pastries, and more, this was very welcome.
Perfect for IBS sufferers!
Cafe Piazza had a great gluten-free menu, and I ate the most delicious lamb chops with pistachio and mustard crust. I ballooned up after the meal (maybe there was wheat or garlic in the crust?) but not too badly.
At Floriade, I found a food truck which did Poke bowls and enjoyed sticky rice with a range of low FODMAP veggies (I asked for no beans) and raw salmon. There was even pickled ginger to add on top. This made me so happy!
Oh, and at the airport, I picked up Stroopwafel Liqueur, my favourite tipple. Fizzy is not my friend, but I drink this caramel liqueur with hazelnut milk. Divine!
This weekend has really made me think about where I go on holiday. I either need to be able to cook some of my meals or go somewhere I know will have good options. Anywhere that serves salads or fish/meat with potatoes and vegetables is a winner. In the meantime, I need to get back to the NERVA hypnotherapy app. I have never got past two weeks, but they have shortened the daily sessions to 15 minutes (previously, they were 20), so maybe I can retrain my brain to not send signals to react to these foods? That would be amazing. If anyone else has any IBS top tips or ideas of great places to travel where the food is IBS friendly, please let me know!
I’ve read many books this month (July 22), giving the majority a five-star rating. What links them is their exploration of relationships. How we are treated as children, as adults, and then as we deteriorate with age can profoundly impact the quality of our lives.
In these books, there are horrific acts, humour, kind deeds and everything in between. They cement my belief that you can only truly judge someone when you have walked in their shoes or at least listened to their life stories. It’s a reminder to be kind, always.
The quote on the back says, “Absolutely riveting from beginning to end,” and I completely agree. This memoir is about chaos, addiction, and two little girls brought up in an unconventional household. Chrysta’s father was a sperm donor, and as an adult, she discovers that she has more than 35 siblings.
Her childhood was even more astonishing and gripped me from the beginning. Her mother, Debra, is unlike anyone I have ever come across or read about. She even asked Warren Beatty to father her children! I struggled to keep up with events in the first few chapters but later realised this adds to the narrative. It gave me a glimpse into the chaotic lives of Chrysta and Kaitlin as children, their mother pulling the carpet from under them on numerous occasions, all in a bid to stay loved, sober, solvent and alive.
It’s shocking, heartfelt and even amusing in parts. It could have all ended badly and nearly did on several occasions. I love reading books which give me an insight into a world different to my own, and at times it was so jaw-dropping that I felt I must be reading a brilliant fiction title.
It’s my book of the year and is a wonderful read. The publisher gifted me the book in return for an honest review. As memoirs go, it’s right up there with Educated, the highly-rated survivalist memoir by Tara Westover and Certified, the comedy-drama by Roger Wilson-Crane.
A book that needed to be written to challenge expected norms for women and to remind us all that we have choices. Throughout Hollie’s journey, I was reminded of how powerful and liberating it can be to share experiences and open up to complete strangers! I loved the interaction with the characters Hollie found to help her along the way and could feel her emotions – from desperation and agony to certainty and enlightenment – pouring off the pages. Society often encourages us to walk a well-trodden path, and sometimes we must find a way to step off. Wild Egg is a celebration of women in all their guises and will be a shining light for many.
I have a daughter, and I love being a Mum. So, why did I find this book so relatable? I went through similar internal wrangling when I was deciding whether to have a second child or not. The expectation that we would have a second child felt huge. People I hardly knew would ask when or if I was having another one. I felt myself needing to explain and justify our choices. Inside I was grieving for the baby I would never have. I remember someone telling me her friend felt this sense of grief even after having five children. It made me feel so much better, and I felt less isolated in my quandary.
Kate takes us through the decline of three relatives – her parents and mother-in-law – and shares some of the ups and downs in caring for them. It’s a short memoir but so heartfelt and tender. I found it incredibly moving in parts, particularly when Kate writes about the grief she feels following her mother’s death.
Kate zooms in to look at the general state of care, and the plight of carers, in the UK. She also zooms in to immerse us in the daily details that carers have to deal with. Much of this happens behind closed doors, so for Kate to give us a glimpse into her world as a carer over the years will be helpful to many. Carers will feel seen, and those of us not caring for anyone might gain empathy and understanding for those who do.
I’ve read all three books in the series, and each has been profoundly moving and educational. They are based on true stories from within Auschwitz, which makes them all the more important. Heather combines the horror of the concentration camps with moments of hope and human connection. The tale of the three sisters is almost unbelievable, and it’s very hard to comprehend what they suffered and endured at the hands of the Nazis. I wiped away an awful lot of tears, and it’s a book which will sit with me forever.
I love a good fantasy series and look forward to reading more by Cari. She takes us into an alternative world, where witches live alongside cowans (the normal humans). It’s a coming-of-age book, and I could so relate to the feelings of awkwardness and feeling like you don’t fit in at school. It was everything I need and want from a good fantasy book – intrigue, humour, fierce friendships and strong female characters.
It has more twists and turns than a scary rollercoaster. I didn’t read the first two books in this series, but it works as a standalone novel. We are taken to New York, Los Angeles and the UK, entering the diverse worlds of finance, movies, clothing design and manufacturing in the early 1900s.
You’ll have to read the book to find out who gets what they wished for and who goes home empty-handed – or worse. Joanna is a great author who keeps you turning the pages. In each of her chapters, the main characters reveal more and more of their true character. My early impressions were frequently flung out of the window as the plot developed, and I had no clue as to where it would eventually end up. In summary, The Sister Returns is an interesting, fast-paced historical romance.
It was gifted to me by Pan Macmillan in return for an honest review as part of A Random Things Blog Tour.
Elaine tells us that 15-20% of children are born highly sensitive. They are intuitive and reflective but easily overwhelmed. It’s a fascinating book and helpful for families who think their child might be highly sensitive. There is a lot to take in, and it’s a book to keep coming back to. I’ve filled my copy with post-it notes and folded over corners (sorry, I can be that kind of reader!) and hope it will be a valuable resource for many years.
Lastly, I also read a book which I really didn’t enjoy. I don’t diss authors on my blog, but if you want to know, email me to find out! It’s a bestseller, but I had to stop reading, as I realised the subject matter made me feel very uncomfortable and just wasn’t enjoyable. Full marks to the author for taking a risk, it’s nicely written, just too dark for me.
Today is my stop on the blog tour for The Sister Returns by Joanna Rees, which has more twists and turns than a scary rollercoaster. I didn’t read the first two books in this series but it works as a standalone novel. We are taken to New York, Los Angeles and the UK, entering the diverse worlds of finance, movies, clothing design and manufacturing in the early 1900s.
It’s 1929 and after running away from her family in Lancashire, becoming a dancer in London and having a riotous time in Paris with her best friend Nancy, would-be fashion designer Vita Casey is now living a much more sedate life in New York with her baby son, far away from her evil brother, Clement, and her nemesis, Edith.
When the disastrous events of the Wall Street Crash change their destinies, Vita and Nancy flee to Los Angeles, where Nancy is determined to make it in the talkies. Schmoozing their way into the ranks of the Hollywood elite, Vita is starting to think that she can begin to fulfil her fashion ambitions. But when the love of her life is hired as a writer on Nancy’s new movie and Clement exacts his ultimate revenge, Vita’s past and present collide. She has no choice but to tell the truth and try to reclaim what is rightfully hers before it’s too late.
You’ll have to read the book to find out who gets what they wished for, and who goes home empty-handed – or worse. Joanna is a great author who knows how to keep you turning the pages. In each of her chapters, the main characters reveal more and more of their true character. My early impressions were frequently flung out of the window as the plot developed and I had no clue as to where it would eventually end up. In summary, The Sister Returns is an interesting, fast-paced historical romance.
It was gifted to me by Pan Macmillan in return for an honest review, as part of A Random Things Blog Tour.
I’ve just read A Normal Family by Chrysta Bilton as part of a Random Things Blog Tour. The quote on the back says, “Absolutely riveting from beginning to end,” and I completely agree. It gets five stars from me.
This memoir is about chaos, addiction, and two little girls brought up in an unconventional household. Chrysta’s father was a sperm donor, and as an adult, she discovers that she has more than 35 siblings.
Even more astonishing is her childhood, which really gripped me from the beginning. Her mother Debra is unlike anyone I have ever come across or read about. She even asked Warren Beatty to father her children! In the first couple of chapters, I struggled to keep up with events but then realised this adds to the narrative. It gave me a glimpse into the chaotic lives of Chrysta and Kaitlin as children, their mother pulling the carpet from under them on numerous occasions, all in a bid to stay loved, sober, solvent and alive.
It’s shocking, heartfelt and even amusing in parts. It could have all ended badly and nearly did on several occasions. I love reading books which give me an insight into a world different to my own, and at times it was so jaw-dropping that I felt I must be reading a brilliant fiction title.
It’s my book of the year so far and is a truly wonderful read. As memoirs go it’s right up there with Educated, the highly-rated survivalist memoir by Tara Westover and Certified, the comedy-drama by Roger Wilson-Crane.
I was gifted the book by the publisher in return for an honest review.
A June reads round-up. Just three books this month, spanning the 1900s to the present day – in the UK, Central and North America. Rarely for me, more fiction than non-fiction although American Dirt felt very real as I was reading, and disturbingly so.
If you like UK-based historical fiction, this is definitely a novel to add to your wish list.
It had me at the words ‘pleasure garden’! Jane has clearly done a lot of research and I loved the way the characters and their lives were set against the backdrop of the opium trade and an ever-expanding London. It reminded me of The Woodcock by Richard Smyth, another novel which portrayed class, love and loss in the early 1900s.
I enjoyed the descriptions of the garden and would have loved to hear more about the plants loved and grown in that era. The Neptune fountain and the parakeets were so vividly portrayed and it was clever to make them representative of the wider narrative. The way the characters evolved – some blossoming, whilst others faded – really drew me in and each night I read later than I wanted to, just to see what would happen.
Gail gave her whole self to the Appalachian Trail and then lays bare her experiences on the page for us all to see. Her description of chronic and invisible illnesses at the start were not only great scene setters but also something I could really relate to.
I wanted to like it more than I did. Perhaps because I wanted more nature writing in there and instead heard a lot about Buckshot, although I recognise why he was an important part of the story. Gail left me wanting to know what happened next. Was she still a changed person when she got home? How did she feel about things once she got space from the trail?
The mark of a good book is one that sits with me for a while. It has been rumbling around my head and has left me feeling slightly more determined to push through my own health issues and find a way to get fit. I really admire Gail’s determination and what she had to mentally overcome to walk as far as she did.
I didn’t previously know much about the migrants who travel from South and Central America into North America.
It’s such a well-written book. The tension sat with me throughout and is the only reason I downgraded to four stars as it was almost too much for me to bear. The hardship was always intertwined with hope. I became invested in the journey, and in each character, willing them to succeed.
Seeing the route they took through different eyes, and particularly the contrast of the mother vs her child, worked extremely well although I did think the eight-year-old thought and behaved like a much older child. It beggars belief the risks that have to be taken to find safety and it was heartbreaking as well as educational.
Since writing this review I have read about the controversy around the book, with many people saying it is a racist book about Mexico written by a white lady. I didn’t see that but then I am a white lady living in the UK with little or no knowledge of the subject. I will endeavour to seek out some alternative writers on the subject, to balance my views. This week’s terrible news about the migrants who have lost their lives by over heating in the back of a truck in Texas was absolutely dreadful.
Our world is so different to the one Jane writes about in Small Eden. Women’s rights and the expectation of women has certainly improved although the abortion news in the US is scary and takes us backwards again. In other areas it also feels like we are going backwards – on climate change, the war in Ukraine, UK politics, the way we treat migrants with 50 dying in the back of a lorry in Texas. It’s hard to take it all in.
So, I’ll go back to my books and back to nature when I need a break. Outside in my garden the rain has been falling and the air is still, like it’s taken a deep breath and is just holding it for a while. It’s 6.21 am and the birds have been up for hours. We have a robin with a white tail feather which comes to sit on the BBQ and catch flies every day. It’s pleasing to know it’s the same one every day. As a child we became fond of a blackbird we called beaky, because half of his top beak was missing.
