Warning: this will be me tomorrow, guarding the dauphinoise potatoes against all comers.
Because I worked myself to a virtual standstill yesterday, today I found myself in the unusual position of having not very much to do. So R and I went off to Stratford late morning for coffee and a leisurely stroll, and H and S opted to come with us.
Town was bizarrely quiet, and so was Holy Trinity churchyard: all of my photos featured this one Robin, which as far as I could see was defending the food against an entirely imaginary marauder. I had a vision of all the other birds sitting inside the nearest yew tree, watching this performance and shaking their heads in disapproval:
“Flippin’ heck – wass ‘e up to now?”
“Dunno – gone mad, I fink. Shall I go down there an’ land next to ‘im, just for a larf?”
“Nah – leave it Phil. E’s not worf it. Anyway, it’s supposed to be the season of good will, innit?”
“Yeah, OK. Bet I can make ‘im jump though, if I go on that branch real close to ‘im, and start singing. Watch this…”
Cue delightful trilling from inside the tree, and a furious response – below – from the defender.
