Really?

Saw Andy last night.  "Hello mate, has the wife forgiven you for crashing her car yet?" Eh - how did you know about that? "I read your blog".

Really?

It was nice that Kee read it.  Then I got a message from Kathryn in New Zealand that she's read it (actually she sent me a message saying "hmmm, interesting".  I think that means 'there there well done for trying but not sure I'm on your wavelength'.  Not many people are Huish.)  Then there were three thumbs up on Facebook for people saying they liked it.  Then Andy (who can't actually read) said that he liked it.  Blimey.

So look, all I'm going to do is take photos and put them up here for me to see if I should send them to photobox to print and put on the wall in my office to get me through the working day - call me silly but I'd rather look at a picture of an animal than a light industrial unit.  I wrote some words because I fancied it, and now I'm sat here thinking gosh someone might actually read this.  Scary thought.

Rain this morning, quelle surprise, but not cold.  Having been out for a couple of pints of Southwold's finest (yes, I'll check my bra size as it was my first pint of 2010) - by the way don't go to Pals on a Wednesday night, it's gash and full of blokes looking for women, so why did we go there - it left its mark on me the following morning.  Ain't nothing like fresh air to wake you up in the morning, and that car was nothing like fresh air...

Not a lot out there first thing.  Went down through the wood by Great Fen, a muntjac bounded away through the trees in front of me, a roe deer sprinted away, sprinted back, leapt in the air, hid behind a tree, panicked, turned round and ran away again.  The breakfast club were at the far end of the cricket bat willows as usual, and the river was quiet.  Still no bleeping barn owl, even though I can visualise the photo every time I walk up the bank of the river towards its field.  I know full well I'll see it when I least expect it but even so I always like to think it will be there floating across the meadow with the mist rising and its round face swivelling as it holds its stare on a mouse or vole.  Have you ever noticed how barn owls fly like they're suspended on a length of gossamer, sort of bouncing but quick-turning, silent assassins of the dawn.

Back at the visitors centre there were suet balls in the feeder.  The long tails were going mad for it (again), but me being fussy the light was nothing compared to Monday so I opted to try and get the willow tits feeding instead.  Noisy little sods they are, a really piercing call, almost loud like a Cetti's warbler, but purposefully hopping from sapling to fence to woodland floor, finding a cobnut and flitting off again.  A pair of them were working a patch of oak leaves, digging over for any hidden morsels.  As I say the light was really weak, down to 1/15, so I lowered the tripod to just above ground level and tried to get a more intimate angle on them.  I pre-focused on a spot and kept one eye on the viewfinder and one eye open to clock them as they came down.  This was the best of the shots (click to open)

No doubt someone somewhere will see this one day and tell me it's actually a marsh tit, but for now I'll call it a willow tit.

So if you're reading this, thank you.  Not sure what I'm thanking you for, and it's a bit odd and I feel self-conscious saying it when I don't know who I'm talking to.  But thank you for taking the time.  The daft thing is I don't actually know what's motivating me to write a blog, but I'm finding it very relaxing.

Fresh air and welly boots.  You can't beat it.