Hatty is eight. I've never seen so much cake, nor imagined it could bring such joy. The rest of the food - including a wonderful leg of spiced lamb - was scavenged by hordes of adults and hulking teenagers. I couldn't get a lens in edgeways. Abby cooked a rather nice dinner. And - Surprise! - Hatty made... a chocolate cake. With chocolate icing! Cream! And more cream!
I blame Mary Berry and those twonks from Masterchef, soliciting the worship of a nation of obese children... We've had a bird-feeder or two in the garden ever since we moved here, aside from a short period when the dropped seed seemed to be attracting mice; solved that one with the arrival of Lily and Lucy, the world's most expensive, inhumane mousetraps. I've surprised myself by becoming unexpectedly twitchy in middle-age - jumping up excitedly to call the girls out to see the two Great Tits that have become regulars on feeder one and ruing having missed two goldfinches on feeder two yesterday morning, a very rare occurrence. Or so Alison, resident ornithological topper, tells me.
But we go through tons of seed, all purchased from CJ Wildbird in 10kg sacks - and I am beginning to realise that this is not just because the birds are hungry... I'm not sure why I set out on a path of 6-monthly tranches of photos of the girls. Because I only ever seem to manage to actually do an update once a year, which means the extra effort of a twofer every time. Ho hum.
Still... that's it done for 2013 - Abby's two tranches of updates are linked from here, Hatty's updates likewise. And here, just to add a bit of colour, is a picture of the two of them, entitled 'Why Tim can never get into the bathroom...'. |
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March 2020
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