The sun is beaming down.
There is a smell of woodsmoke in the air.
The birds are going ballistic – blackbirds, several varieties of finches, sparrows, tits of every shape and colour, wrens, pigeons, doves and loads more besides. They are performing aerial ballet over The Manor and singing their little hearts out.
If the rest of the world would only fuck off and leave me alone….
I’d be in heaven.