Murder at the Manor
The thaw is in full swing.
Everything is dripping [apart from myself], and things are beginning to appear after being buried. There is still no sign of the Daffydowndillies though. They had been in full flower but after the main fall of snow there wasn’t even a hump in the surface to show where they had been. Time will tell.
The only damage I have found so far is a length of guttering hanging loose after the avalanche off the main roof. A nail or two should fix that. There are also quite a few branches hanging low after the weight of snow, which I am hoping will spring back or else I’ll have to remove them.
The one thing that amazed and delighted me was that we never lost power. That in itself is a fucking miracle as in the past power cuts were almost as regular [and as frequent] as the tides.
We had a new addition to the family over the weekend. It was a fledgeling blackbird that had chosen the wrong year to hatch. Unfortunately I think it was beyond resuscitation. Certainly there was no sign of life.
The fact that the poor thing was in many pieces scattered around the bedroom floor was a fair indication that it was beyond revival.
Fucking cat!
The fact that the poor thing was in many pieces scattered around the bedroom floor was a fair indication that it was beyond revival.
Ahh yes the lesser spotted Irish Jigsaw bird. Anything that requires a mad German Scientist and a jolt of lightening to get it moving again is probably dead.
It would have taken more than a few bolts through the neck. It was even beyond Superglue.
I love cats.
Mean minded, evil, conniving, murderous little fuckers. [Cats, not you]
One assumes that ‘love of cats’ is not manifested in a Welshman/sheep sort of way, more like a fond admiration.