Freight Train, freight train.....

A tad cloudy today for the most part. Temps lower than (I'm fast getting used to) usual. About 18 to 20 degrees at most.  And the bleeding mice - Moulots - large, pretty field-mousey things, have found the recently planted Beans!  Hopefully, they might have moved on - though, free food, easy to collect from underground, is likely to prove irresistible to the boogers, I fear!

All was well yesterday evening when I watered the two beds, Peas & Beans respectively. This afternoon when I returned, after a couple of hours out to collect my Skyplus digibox-thingy for Freeview radio primarily, the sods had been in action and gone. The only sign of their attack being their subterranean, mole-like, raised trails in the topsoil:

God knows how many seeds they've scoffed - tricky to tell, without digging the plot over again!  Boogers!

I took J to the rail station in Poitiers yesterday afternoon. She was letting the train take the strain on her journey to London: Poitiers to Paris, Metro across the capital, then Eurostar to St Pancras. Loaded with wine, of course. 'Twas a heavy load! Should possibly have been freight-trained.

En route to Poitiers we passed this wonderfully French used gate emporium. It's actually an ironworks where they also make these confections but there is always a great and interestingly baroque selection of used ornate metalwork propped up outside the works:

It could only be France:

They do have a sort of appeal, I feel. Though you'd want a rather grand place to erect them.  

I drove off from Poitiers rail station with J's baguette - bought for a rail-time picnic - on the roof of the car. Not ideal, to say the least.  As I rounded a bend I heard a slithering noise on top, looked in my mirrors and saw the loaf slide from my vehicle onto the bonnet of a too-fast, French boy racer, in his gleaming, red Alfa Romeo. It then skittered out of sight towards the gutter.  It couldn't have caused any damage to the Italian car, as the driver didn't try to pull me up; he didn't even flash his lights, hit the horn (very unFrench) or overtake and pull me to the roadside to grumble. Perhaps he was just too surprised. Or worried about how to express his rage to a Swede - the car is still Swedish registered and on Sweedle plates.

Charlie is back on form. He feasted a la mode on Lapin in the night, leaving the rear bits - legs, haunches and scut - behind on the bedroom floor. Very thoughtful, I' m sure. Maybe he left it for Jack or me, thinking we might fancy a bit of baby-rabbit stew for a change.  I chucked it out for the scavenging birds. No doubt a Buzzard or Crow of some kind would be more than happy to have it.

The Cuckoos arrived a few days ago and now they are chirrupping away noisily all day, together with the 'Hup, hup, hup...' of the Hoopoes who also turned up a few days ago. They are really rather pretty, striking birds and come in considerable numbers to this region. One flew over as J and I were having lunch a day or so ago. They are always a pleasure to see, though the only time I've ever seen the headcrest open is when they fly in fast and land on a tree-branch. When they do this and stop suddenly, they have little control over the head-dress which seems to flip forward and open, almost before they can stop it or themselves.

On the Bright Side of the Road.....

A rude awakening this morn, at 07:00.  Charlie, who had, for the first time in weeks, spent most of the night asleep indoors curled up on his 'own blanketty-thing' at the foot of the bed, slipped out for a feathered take-away.  On his return, he breeped a bonjour to Jack and promptly dropped the bird from his jaws for Jack to admire and inspect. To his surprise, apparently, the small Blue Tit acted like birds do - he flew off. Firstly beside the bed, then - we think - onto the bedhead itself. We think this, because Charlie promptly launched himself into the air, onto the bed and - rather unwelcomely - onto J's head in a bid to recapture the errant oiseau.

At the time, however, we assumed he had a mouse or similar, and having quickly looked around the room finding no trace of life - or bloody, mangled death - we returned to the land of nod. Charlie by this time had breeped a farewell and gone back out to find alternative nosh.

The Blue Tits wouldn't melt in my mouth look:

It was only a few hours later, at just before 09:00 when J had dressed and gone off to the loo, that the small bird took courage and flew across the room to try to make its escape through the - closed - shutters, thereby alerting us to its presence. It seemed uninjured and shot off out as soon as I partially opened a shutter. A rare surviver from Charlie's nocturnal feeding regime! Although that's two in one week -  a mole (which he wouldn't have eaten anyway) and a Blue Tit. Maybe he's slipping a bit; though I did later find the half-eaten remains of a lizard on the sitting-room floor. So maybe not!

It's another glorious Spring day here, with climbing temps (around 23 degrees at 13:00) and a cloudless sky. There are a couple of lizards climbing the wall in the window rebates, even as I plonk here on the keyboard. And thinking of plonk, a nice bottle of chilled Rose is just what is called for with a crusty French bread lightish lunch in the garden, I think.

I've just arranged to buy a SkyPlus digibox thing from a Brit nearby. We have a sat-dish with us and it will allow us to receive UK free-to-air Radio with better, steadier reception than internet, I hope!  Frankly, we know SFA about these things.....and we aim to remain that way as far as we can.  I've no interest in watching loads of crap and crappy television channels. But for Radio 4, 7 - now curiously rebrande 'Radio 4 Extra' it seems,  and odd things on R2, (Paul Jones, Blues prog & Whispering Bob Harris Country), it should be the dogs b8ll8cks!

In Sweden it was impossible to get these services. Largely because we were so far North. Instead we had innumerable, unintelligible (to us, at any rate)  German channels - stodgy and heavy, as you might expect - and a few genuinely dreadful Swedish offerings. Oh, and the truly terrible BBC World!  Here so far, we've managed comfortably with the French free-to-air stuff. It's good for my language wrestling to watch the news progs etc.

In Sweden, when we mentioned the possibility of buying a TV licence, our neighbours scoffed at the idea on the basis that Swedish TV was just so bad it wasn't worth paying for. And these were our Swedish neighbours. Who happened to be absolutely right in their thinking. In addition, most Swedish channel programming was predicated on old UK/USA repeats in English, subtitled into Swedish. This at least made them intelligible and helped with learning some basic Swedish - though not with the weird sounds that Swedes feel compelled to emit!

We have also decided to sell both our principal house in Sweden - hopefully keeping the Bagarstuga/cabin for odd - summer - visits, and the house in Andalusia, which we virtually never visit.
God knows how long this might all take in the current insane climate, though we think the Swedish place will sell easiest. We shall see.

Pssssttt....anybody wanna a buy a used house in Sweden.....?

Good Morning Mister Blue.....

Another beautiful day, better than yesterday, which was a bit of a peach.  Clear, blue skies, full sun and around 25 degrees by 13:00. All plus temps.....and, titter, titter,.....still no snow!!  A man could get used tho this.....very easily!

We still have no Hens, although we have tried. I'm sure we'll succeed, given a bit more time. Anyway, we still have no Hen Coop. Our planned trip South on Sunday to buy one, went by the wayside - after a trip North to near Le Mont St Michel, neither of us felt up to the drive down towards Bordeaux on the following day.

However, some progress has been made on the Potager/garden front, with a couple of - admittedly smallish - beds already stripped of turf, double-dug and one seeded with peas. We also bought a few plants: a couple of Aubergines, Peppers, Tomatoes and cucumber. All appear to have survived my minimal input and attention to date. Long may it continue.

The Pea Bed - more to be created:

Two Aubergines and one Pepper - potted on and still alive. Chillis not yet available from local nurseries:

The Toms and another pepper - still a bit to go before potting on needed:

Charlie seems to have settled into a routine of sorts: he disappears first thing each morning, usually rushing out with Jack, before heading off into the fields and hedgerows in the search for live tucker. As he's eating progressively less dried food each day I assume he's catching more and more mice, voles, birds etc. which means, of course, that he will require more worming treatment. Must keep an eye out, I guess.

He woke me at about 04:00 last night with a growling, squealing noise which could mean only one thing - he was fighting with a neighbours cat that had come in the cat-flap, through the utility area and into the main hallway. By the time Jack and I had galloped downstairs, the interloper had gone and Charlie was crouched under a coffee table in the sitting-room, looking a bit wide-eyed and upset.  Dare say he'll get over it, and we hope the intruder has learnt its lesson and now keeps away.

Our closest neighbours appear to have taken off for a week or so holiday. This would normally be fine but, in this case, and in that sort of callous French way, they simply left their young dog behind. He's contained within their well-fenced rear garden, with a basin of water - now consumed -  and no food!  He is normally a rather aggressive dog but since we realised he was starving and began to feed him over and through the fence, he has become almost friendly and certainly dependent on us. We were tempted to report this to the local authorities, but rather than create possible strife, have elected to feed and water the poor creature and speak to them on their return. We will, however, make it clear to them that should they do this again we will report it in future. God knows if it will make any great difference, but the guy does keep sheep too - so perhaps he'd be banned from keeping any animals. We are not sure. Another neighbour, a Brit, suggested that this has happened previously, with the family going off for a week or two, leaving another, previous dog, to fend for itself until their return! Extraordinary behaviour. Unnecessary and cruel. Lord knows how they thought it was going to survive in the heat down here without food and, more importantly, of course, water!

Here he is, hoping I've brought some tucker. (Don't think a digi-camera would last long in his jaws, though he'd probably give it a go in desperation):

We nipped out to the nearby town this afternoon and bought a 5 litre bottle of mineral water, the content of which was - most sensibly in my view - discarded and replaced from the local Cave pump with a fine Rosé at only 1.50 euro the litre. With the temps heading towards 30 in the sun today, a BBQ and Prawn Pill-Pill is on the cards with a thirst soon to be liberally slaked by an acceptably priced, chilled Rosé.

We spoke to our old neighbours in Sweden yesterday evening. The snow is gradually receding, though there remains an appreciable ground covering. The temps have improved to +8 in the afternoons, dropping to just around or below freezing for a few hours overnight.

Soon it will be looking more like this - especially when the huge flocks of Canada Geese and Common Cranes arrive to mate and nest over summer:

Reindeer in Spring ;

 Possibly me - despairing - will this sodding snow ever finally go?!:

Little Old Wine Drinker Me.....

Weather definitely on the up now.  Drab morning, but still dry with 15 degrees, and a  tres agreeable apres midi!  About 23 degrees this afternoon and early evening. Beautiful.  And likely to remain decently passable for the next few days to boot, with rising temps!

God,...the difference from Sweden - beautiful and striking as Sverige is. Natural warmth and sunshine sure beats snow and minus temps anytime. I'm beginning to get used to the differences but still use Swedish as a fall-back language. Must be puzzling the Hell out of the locals, even though I am more comfortable and understand and speak French with greater fluency!  Life can be decidedly odd and surprising at times, I still find!

Around here there are countless lakes and fishing holes. On the outskirts of the village itself there is a thing (not yet sure quite what) called 'Pescalis'.  Roads and roadsigns seem to converge on it and it seems to indicate a major fishing area.

Fairly quiet this afternoon

I assume it is Carp fishing - much beloved by UK anglers with huge rods and maggoty-feed throwing contraptions.  I'm told it is a major venue for their ilk - whatever that may be!

Around us in Sweden, we had countless lakes with fishing of most kinds available: trout fly; spinning; trolling; course of most kinds - but no Carp that I know of -  and huge Pike, of a size that would make a UK pike-man's eye water and lead to repeated wet-dreams.  Rolf once came banging at the door one morning, about 07:00 - rather optimistically, I might add - to give me a fish he'd just caught. He then heaved a huge Pike from the boot of his car, handed it to me and drove off home. I slung it onto the kitchen worktop and went back to bed, assuming it to be dead. Instead, when I resurfaced a few hours later, I was horrified to find the poor thing gasping its last and flapping wearily. I was relieved to think that I hadn't tried to open its mouth with my bare hands earlier!

The villagers built and maintained small fishing huts/stugas for the use of anglers. This is one of the best of them on a lake just below the house:

Equipped with a few tables and chairs, a small cast-iron wood stove that doubles as a cooker and a few maps, it even has cleaning equipment and coat hooks provided,  plus outdoor benches and tables for clement weather use. And all free, included in the cost of the fishing permit! I often wondered if these would have survived the threat of  possible vandalism in the UK or elsewhere. In Sweden, they were perfectly safe, save for the occasional times  when they were used as camp-sites by itinerent berry-picking Ukranians and Vietnamese summer visitors, who are annually lured to the country with the promise of high earnings, wealth and easy picking conditions (in mosquito ridden bogs) by unscrupulous Swedish soft-fruit businesses.

I must get some summery pix of Sweden but first I'll have to transfer them from J's Mac laptop to my main Mac Mini. No doubt, it'll be a prize pain to do this. But I'll give it a go - maybe have to use a wee USB thingy to achieve this?

Spent much of the afternoon gently bruleéing in the sun, working in the garden; still digging veg plots, but getting there slowly. J mowed the grass and rested in the shade from time to time. Jack ran around looking for sticks to chew and Charlie.....well, who knows? He brought a late night take away home in the early hours, wailed noisily as he came into the bedroom and then equally noisily crunched his way through what must once have been a mouse, going by the few remnants remaining on the morning floor. He then spent almost the entire day out and about.

We managed to have a BBQ this evening before the sun set with a bottle of chilled Rosé to wash it all down. Tomorrow we have an early start and must drive up to the Basse Normand to collect our old desk which we need badly!  On Sunday we have arranged to travel down towards Bordeaux to buy a chicken ark. Then, we can get a few point of lays, we hope!

I nipped into town this afternoon to buy a few bits and bobs - plonk etc., and to snatch a piccy of the finest Magnolia tree in blossom I've ever come across. It's behind the Marie/Hotel de Ville/Town Hall, and unfortunately I missed it at its best - last week, I'd guess - because I was in London.

The whiteish stuff on the ground below the tree is the fallen petals from its blooms.

The local farmer has seperated the cows from their calves today, so the poor old dears are wandering around bellowing non-stop while the young 'uns career around a nearby field, slithering to a halt before turning tail and galloping back to their start point. Bleeding noisy!

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head.....

Well, a wet and dreary week so far. Still, it beats the seemingly endless sub-zeros of Sweden. And, as a bonus, no snow hereabouts.

Charlie came into the bedroom and wailed loudly this morning at about 09:00. A late enough hour, so I got up to see him, only to find he'd already exited again via his catflap. Little booger! But not before harassing his old buddy, Jack, of course. J was prepared and snapped the action:

The temperature is a healthy 12 or so, predicted to rise to about 18 later, with 23 on the cards for tomorrow. Yesterday was much the same, although it rained here much of the time.  Back up North in Fun City they had a low of minus 21 - so, no change there, then. And it's supposed to be Spring!

We had a squirrel cavorting in the garden this morning; though difficult to spot, hiding behind fruit trees and skipping around constantly, it looks like a red 'un. I hope so, and would expect that in this region. We have a good range of fruit trees in the garden: Mulberry, Quince, Pear, Apple, Cherry and Sloe. Some need TLC and pruning but the blossom is out and hopefully we'll have a fair crop later. Always good for freezing, jams, chutney and pickles, not to mention gin - so long as we beat the wild things to the harvest! We have a friend in Kent who makes an interesting and highly slurppable Quince Brandy!

I've just removed the bird feeders - I don't believe in Spring/Summer feeding - there's plenty of tucker around for them at this time of year, and less threat of choking for young birds in the nest if the parents can't dump seed and nuts down the immature throats of their offspring. I know there's a debate about this issue, some favouring all year round feeding and others only winter provision.  I think the RSPB recommends the latter, so I have followed that course for many years and will continue to do so.

We have large numbers of Greenfinch (a firm favourite of mine); Great Tits, Blue Tits and Wagtails around. The racket at dusk is ear-splitting at times. A neighbour, another Brit, tells us there are also Nightingales, though I've yet to see or hear them: should be interesting later in the year, say, July/August, when the evening sounds should be enjoyable. When we lived in Spain, the Alpujarra region, in Andalucia, (Driving Over Lemons country), the village barrancas were the favoured roosts and nesting places of the resident Nightingale population, shy, retiring birds with a distinctive, piping whistle as they flit from bush to bush.

Looking forward to sitting outside with a glass or two (or more) of Rosé and sunny warmth, bathed in the sound of the resident birdlife.

There are also some very noisy Woodpeckers nearby. Most days they spend their time drumming on tree-trunks, presumably hoping to lure mates. There are both Great Spotteds and Greens, it seems. I've also heard, but yet to see, a Tawny Owl that warbles to itself - and as a territorial warning to others - most nights in fringes of the back garden.

We have decided to get a couple of hens - always pleasant company, I find. Yesterday we drove to Parthenay, where it was market day, in the hope of finding some for sale. But, there were none available, which was probably for the best, as we don't have housing or fencing/plot arranged for them yet! Though we have designated a sheltered corner of the garden for their use. Not sure what breeds will be available here, but would like Marans or Rhode Island Reds, if possible. RIRs are usually pretty reliable, hardy, colourful, sizeable brown egg layers. We kept them many years ago when we had a small-holding in the Welsh hills, Brecon Beacon National Park, near Crickhowell. And Marans produce the most strikingly beautiful blotchy eggs imaginable.

We tried a couple of Marans in Sweden but they were some dwarf cross breed (it transpired to our surprise and disappointment!), extremely nervous and hopeless in the egg department. In addition, they were terrified of, and hen-pecked by, our principal hen, a Warren called 'Lady' - a real harridan, if ever there was one. She amply illustrated the true meaning of the expression, 'Hen Pecked'. Although, that said, she liked nothing more than to sit alongside us on a summer evening, eating the odd crisp or peanut, wittering merrily to herself - and, I like to think, to me -  all the while.

Lady was a real character. She would wander off to visit the neighbours, often hiding behind the logs at Kjell's place:

However, she would come racing back from her hiding place when called by name. She was always an optimist in the quest for nosh. It would be grand find another hen like her.

Having just paused for lunch, I looked out of the kitchen window and spotted a smallish, nondescript warbler-type bird perched on the edge of a plant-pot. It eyed me warily before flying off with a flash of russet-red tail. At first I thought it was probably a dowdy female Redstart, but on reflection - and having checked me bird-books - it was a female Nightingale. Nice to get such a clear view, they're usually too covert and not keen on exposure, in my limited experience.

No rain today, so about time to get into the garden and start digging some veg plots. The garden is somewhat neglected but we spent a day or two clearing it up and Frank, our neighbour, mowed the grass a bit for us, so there's no real excuse not to get down to it. The reward will be later in summer and autumn, when we can feast on the fresh produce we hope to have: aubergines, tomatoes, chillis, peppers, cucumbers, courgettes, beans and peas, and anything else that looks to be a likely runner in the region.

The neglected garden, ready for treatment:

The general view out front - different from Sweden -No Snow!

J is busy in the kitchen today, making Marmalade, that old UK favourite, from a batch of Seville oranges bought in late January in London and stored in the freezer till now:

`Jack remains ever-hopeful.....

Sunshine On My Shoulders ....

It's been a while since I've been on this bloggy thing. But, we have moved 3000 Kms or so South in the interim and managed to get internet connected in France, despite the language difficulties (for me, at any rate, J is pretty Frogspeak savvy). So, all in all, not too bad, I'd say.

It's almost a month since I last posted anything - my, doesn't time fly!  I previously mentioned the Swedish art of using a Sparka - suggesting an explanation at a later date.

Well here it is, a sparka, with Rolf at the helm:

And another neighbour, Marianna, who uses it daily to assist in her circular keep-fitty outings

Basically, little more than a few strips of wood to hold on to, a few strips of metal to slide along on and a few layers of warm clothing to cope with the biting cold. Rolf is, admittedly, a master of the ancient art. The word itself means 'kick', as you kick start your movement forward and then slide along on the ice. They are used throughout the country by folk of all ages and come in all sizes to suit. J has one and enjoyed the odd foray with it. The older residents of Fun-City, (Junsele), our nearest small town, use them to support themselves while shopping and generally getting about.

And speaking of Fun City, here it is, in typically bustling, Swedish winter mode:

A true one-horse town

On one of my final visits, before heading South to France, I noted the town bakery was flogging off Semlar - huge fluffy, puffy cake-things, rich in colesterol, cream, marzipan.  Truly Viking sized patisseries. I bought two on the basis that, like Ian Botham and his Weetabix, nobody could eat more - save a Swede, that is. They are really quite good and almost a mini-meal in themselves:

A light dusting of non-fattening, icing suger on top - to represent the ever-present snow, perhaps ?

In the event, I only managed one of the buggers, forgot about the other and eventually Foxxy benefitted from it, as a sort of parting gift, to strengthen his reserves till the snow goes.

Having received my digi-camera-download cable from Amazon, I can now reveal Mister Fox as he snuffles around, ignoring me, albeit warily, searching for titbits:

And here is Charlie, virtual hunting from the kitchen window, thinking a nice haunch of Fox might be a useful dietary winter supplement:

I hope old Mister Fox is okay. I'm sure it would only have been a few days before he realised the 'gravy train' had moved on, leaving him once again to his own devices and instincts. Pity poor Monica's chickens, then!

The garden to the front of the house had been getting a bit busy, with huge Pine and Birch trees blocking out the sun to a large extent. I had asked Håkan if he could take a few down for us and he'd happily agreed. He likes nothing more than messing around with dangerous manly, power-tools; always beats a day indoors or in the milking parlour, for his Kroner!  I was plodding around, packing stuff and preparing for the move when I heard the buzz of a chainsaw outside. 

Håkan had arrived with tractor and the inevitable snowfall to help out:

He felled about half a dozen trees before deciding, in a typically Swedish way, that it was time for Fika!

Going.......

Going......

Gone!

Now this use of a tractor to support while cutting and push when ready to topple, is not something you'll find in any safety manual; elfansafety would have a fit. So not to be done at home, as they say!

The finished mess, which he then cleared up later:

 As we were on the cusp of leaving and had plenty of wood in the woodstore:

 We were only too happy to leave it to him. And the difference in light inside the house made it well worthwhile, even though it was for only a few days!

The move itself went reasonably well. The removal van was, of course, inadequate. It was unable to get up the snow-covered drive to the front door, neccessitating a bit of a heavy, tiring, manhandling of stuff in slippery, sub-zero temps to load up. The drive to Poiteau Charentes took about two days but we escaped the snow to emerge into double-figure PLUS temps and NO SNOW!

Although it's cloudy today, and has been raining, the difference is strikingly enjoyable. Charlie is outside - he now has a catflap - hunting like crazy. He brought a singularly agile mouse home as a take-away last night, chased it round the house for a while, before losing it as it took off, leaping into the air,  out of the back door. No doubt, he's still searching for it now. Persistent sods, are cats!

Charlie on his final foray in Sweden, heading home, little knowing he was about to be caged and transported by car for a couple of days.

And Jack, too, kept in the car for a tediously long time. Aware that something was afoot, but not sure quite what:

What about me, then?

Here is the general view from the front garden, looking vaguely South across the village:

And the village welcome:

And those temperatures.....Brrrr......:

I'll have to get some pix of the new gaff organised soon. Now, I'm off to the nearest Cave to buy some acceptable and agreeable plonk (Cotes du Rhone-type) at 1.50 Euros the litre, en vrac, at the pumps!  Sure as Hell beats the madness of Sweden!

In The Chilly Hours and Minutes.......

Yesterday evening, just as dusk descended, I set off up to our neighbour's milking parlour for......milk!  We always buy our milk from Monica. It is straight from the cow, unpasturised and untouched, the way it used to be when I was a lad.  On the way back home, I looked up and there was a huge shape slowly but  purposefully powering its way  over the village, heading for the far reaches of the forest to the South. Though impossible to identify in the gloaming light and at great height, it was certainly either an Eagle Owl or a Great Grey Owl. There's nothing else around at this time of year, save for a pair of Golden Eagles who have their territory a few miles off - and it definitely was not one of those - or a Capercaillie - which again, I'm sure it was not -  that is so huge. Although there is probably a way of telling their flight patterns apart, I don't know it. So, that's as much as I can say. It was a pleasant end to what had turned out to be an unexpectedly mild, Spring-like day.

Later still, at just after 20:00,  Foxxy came by and snaffled his supper.  By that time it was about -4 (incredibly mild for that time of night) and the eves were still dripping steadily. Håkan's Elkhound, Birk, was going bonkers, straining at his tether and barking wildly at the Fox's intrusion. Foxxy knows he is safe, as he has been known to skirt around Birk, keeping just out of his reach all the while, according to Monica.

I had to buy a bit more sunflower seed for the feeders yesterday. Last year the price of this stuff rocketed in Sweden allegedly because the French crop had failed badly - according to the Swedish farming press! We were down in SW France - a major sunflower growing region, at the time, and certainly didn't notice or hear of any disastrous crop failures. So it was probably the usual explanation that prevailed: 'tis no coincidence that Swede and greed rhyme, as I often say.

Normally we feed all through winter and well  into Spring  - the ground remains hard as iron here for so long - and therefore have a superb variety of birds visit the garden. Especially once the northern Spring migrating species reach us. We have Nuthatches, Bramblings, White Wagtails,  Yellow Wagtails, Crossbills, Rosefinches, Greenfinches, Chaffinches, Fieldfares (most striking in summer plumage - with raucous voice), Redwings, Yellow Buntings, Golden Plover, Lapwing, Curlew, Canada Geese and Crane - all in the garden itself, though not all simultaneously. In autumn, on the reverse run, we usually have flocks of 100-plus of Waxwings, delightfully coloured, plumpish, school-masterly looking birds that strip the remaining berries from trees and bushes before continuing South.

Anyone who uses bird-feeders will also be familiar with the ingenuity and persistence of the squirrel.  Although generally classed as 'rodents', I have a sneaking admiration for these cheeky, clever characters. They don't cause us any real problems - apart from when they ate their way through our old plastic feeders to get at the contents - and are frequently entertaining.  They are also undeniably cute. We have one in particular who seems to miss out on much of his winter hibernation beauty sleep, preferring to stock up on the bird-feed. He gets decidedly tetchy when approached, clucking and 'tutting' at us, but only retreating when we can virtually pick him up, at which point he clambers into a tree and clucks even more irritatedly and noisily. He's really a delight to have around and we don't grudge him a thing!:

                                                       Here he is, in his dowdy winter coat.

This morning Charlie gave me a nudge at 04:30 and, gettting a limited response, fortunately and a bit to my surprise, curled up on the duvet and went off to sleep. I followed his example until he stretched and breeped loudly at almost 08:00, clearly signalling a start to the day.  I was up and dressed, heading for the door  before Jack even noticed the action. The thermometer was reading -1.  Almost Spring-like temp for this time of year. Where the eves had been dripping there are now icicles hanging and rippled-effect, glistening pools of ice below on the ground.

A trio of Great Spotted Woodies were sharing the feeders with a sole Nuthatch - the latter are very bold at times and I was able to get up very close to it to replenish the  feeders before it looked at me with its striped eye and a gesture of annoyance and flew up into the higher branches. The Woodies were evidently engaged in normal birdy Spring behaviour, two of them jousting for a mate by the look of things.  The 'mate', so to speak, subject of their desires,  carried on gorging itself and ignored the others - too sensible to be a bloke!

I must finish off packing, as far as I can, in readiness for the move South. I wander around looking at things aiming to deal with them but largely unable to see how to or know what's best. There's just so much stuff to be considered. I reckon I've cracked the back of it but there's still a bit to finish off, and only a day or two left to complete it! I hope this is our last move - it's just too much effort nowadays! Although, we'll have to come back up to Sweden at a later date to collect/move the remainder of the stuff - and the books!!  They are the biggest problem in many ways: they are heavy, cumbersome, numerous - and still expanding (I blame Amazon really) - cannot be compressed and take up an inordinate amount of space in a removal wagon. But that's not for a while, so, for now, I will try to forget them!

J's flight has landed, so she's in Sweden. Unfortunately however she flew with Ryanair today, so is a long way from home. Ryanair's version of 'Stockholm' in this case 'Skavsta' is in reality the coastal town of Nyköping, a fair way - an hour at least - from the capital of the country. She will travel by train to Stockholm central, change trains for Sundsvall, a pleasant, university town on the coast, but will not arrive there until 20:12. I have a 2.5 hour drive to collect her, followed by the same return journey time. Her journey time is therefore 14 hours long. France will be a much better option, much more accessible - with more transit options available.

I must cut a bit more wood to tide us over till we leave,  and prepare for her return. So that's enough from me today. Anyway, it's Sunday!