On waking from returning late from New Wine I discovered that there was a fair bit of soot that had fallen down our chimney. On further investigation it transpired that there was a pigeon within the pile. On closer inspection the pigeon moved.
After a bit of thought and with the use of a large but old sheet I relocated the fire grate and pigeon to the garden where it flapped off to the bench in a kind of wonky and half hearted manner. We tried to provide the bird with water and seed but, sadly, it died later that day. Polly, as our eldest named her (for it is a she on account of the egg we found with her) is now buried in our garden. The head stone is still being worked on.
The egg in the de-sooted fireplace. now buried with its mum.
Polly, in shock, shortly before she died. At least we saved her from being savaged by a cat or dieing covered in soot. Hopefully our eldest will fulfill her ambition to be a vet so we will know the best course of action in future. Or even more hopefully it won't happen again.
The view from our bedroom. (Photographs stitched with hugin.)
Reflecting at the JCB factory.
Sitting on the patio with my beautiful wife.
Pedaling furiously at Gulliver's Kingdom.
Our eldest climbing muddy rocks.
A big hole.
