saturday morning fever

It’s Heavenly here. I’m up with the birdies (well before 8) with papers, Twiglets and coffee in the garden minutes later (God knows what the man in the garage thinks of me going in there in my pyjamas with my hair sticking out and sleep in my eyes). I’m always itching to go by half past.

It’s only me, the birds and the pesky next-door cat up at that time but by nine windows are opening and I even got a wave this morning as I hung out my washing. The joy I get from being able to dry my washing outside is staggering. I have to do it on Saturdays. Round here it seems to be lawn mowing, DIY and kids playing day. It’s a regular diet of chain saws, mowers and kids laughing and screaming until they inevitably go too far and end up crying. Whereas on Sundays the bar-b-qs kick off at Noon and go on alllll day. Ha ha, People talk rot when they’ve been on yucky park bench tinned larger all day. Not that I’m a snoop but Bank Holidays seem to be adults crying and arguing loudly day.

The birds are busy round here first thing until they clear off for the day, returning early evening. I’ve got some tits building a nest in my bird house, a jay who pops by around 8amish, a couple of wood pigeons and an army of his and her robins. They are the cleverest birds by far and visit as soon as they see a garden tool in my hand, just waiting to swoop up the worms and the slugs. They’re not remotely interested in the seeds I leave out. Proper meat-eaters. They are also the most daring and regularly come within inches of me.