Sold, To That Nice Pair Of Swallows

Having watched Ken and Alice swooping in and out of the laundry room yesterday, their beaks clogged with gobbets of mud, I ventured therein myself towards the evening to have a nosy and see if I could locate exactly where they are building their nest. For yes, dear reader, they have decided to take up residence! Here, to be precise...

...right across the end of the handle of my red dustpan and brush, hanging 

from a nail on a beam.

Nothing like advertising your presence to the enemy with a dash of bright red, I thought, but then can birds see colours? Are they like dogs that can see only shades of grey? Anyway, Ken and Alice have been adding to the nest today, so fingers crossed eggs will happen and then babies. I am trying to ignore the pile of poop already accumulating in front of the immersion tank.

There was a slight altercation when another pair of swallows arrived and went in for a recce of the joint. A stand off ensued with Ken getting all high and mighty and pointing his wing at the door, whilst Alice got a bit screechy, telling them, I imagine, exactly where to go, and double quick, too. They then sat, side by side, on top of the door, hands on hips and staking ownership before scooting back inside for a bit more mud daubing. 

All very entertaining for me, sitting at the dining table with my early morning cup of tea. Better than telly. 

I’ve left Facebook. Have I told you this already? Three people have noticed. Three! Honestly, I could disappear from the planet completely and be but a mere speck and a wisp of that person who used to be there, can’t remember her name but she made a nice cake. But that’s no bad thing, being anonymous. It gives one the freedom to live one’s life how one wishes, without scrutiny from others. Says she who continues to blog...oh, the irony. 

Anyway,  I left because I found myself becoming increasingly riled by the comments and posts from other users. I know we seem to be living in increasingly emotional and heightened times, but there really is no need to be rude, aggressive and disrespectful of the feelings and beliefs of others. Is there? I don’t know. But I do know I’d had enough. I am developing the urge to be Hermit. Hermitess. Lady Hermit. You get the idea. I shall continue to blog though. I’ve been blogging for over 13 years now. I’ve still got the rest of ‘Clive and Min’ to deliver, for goodness’ sake. 

I’m apologising in advance for any quirkiness in the layout of the blog. Blogger has changed its interface AGAIN which means I have to get used to how it works AGAIN. You should have heard the swearing that accompanied the writing of this one. Why can’t something that works perfectly well be left alone? Why this need for constant ‘improvement?’ Boils my blood, so it does. Already I can’t even find the ‘Publish’ button...

Ooh, thought about the treehouse! I was perusing it whilst we were having a barbecue this evening. Bits of it had started to fall off, and bits of it were helped off by Andy. It now consists of a platform and a roof. I had a sudden thought that it could be a little place of meditation. String lots of solar powered fairy lights around it, add a lantern or three, some meditative art pieces, a ledge for a cup of tea and a bun, and a big squishy cushion et voila! Hermit up a tree! The tree is slap bang in the middle of the garden. Panoramic views, multitude of focal points. North, south, east and west, stars at night. 

I’m adding it to the Garden Revamp List.