I have been up a ladder, I've been painting and because my position was one of elevation the aromas of late spring crept through the open windows and right up my hooter.
Sadly 'her next door' has also been making the most of the sun. She was flopped out caked in chip fat trying to capture a tan. She's eighty a day and instead of the scent of lilac bushes floating in from the garden I got fags, it felt like I was trapped on the beaches of the Costa Del Sol in high season.Horrible.
The warmth of the last two days has brought out a couple of my roses, the grass has leapt like a springer spaniel and the birds have made short work of the bird bath - I am having to top it up regularly with one eye out for the water board.
Talking of birds, we have had a white racing pigeon squatting on our bird table. It won't go away. It's pure white. I am not so sure what to make of it. In some cultures it could mean something sinister like a death on the cards, then again it may induce a win on the scratchies. I am at a loss.
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