Death of a very dear friend.

Dear Blog,

               What did I say? ‘Things can only get better’. Well they didn’t. Definitely no. No with a capital ‘N’. I couldn’t trudge on Wednesday, my collarbone was too sore from my two executive meetings with Mother Earth, on Saturday and Tuesday. My athletic session on Thursday was a slow trudge ... a very slow trudge; a trudge even slower than my usual slow trudge, which is slow slow slow slow slow ... not even a quick in there! It was so slow that an old lady with a walking stick offered to help me to cross the road while there was a lull in the traffic.

But that wasn’t what made the week not get better. You see, I have always fed the wild birds that come to visit the estate. I mentioned the red legged partridges to you last week, didn’t I Blog? Over the years I have had robins, blackbirds, sparrows feeding out of my hand .. not at the same time I hasten to add. Pheasants have visited the old homestead by the bus load. Last year I was especially fond of ‘Hoppy’ who had broken her leg at some time in the past and limped with her foot bent at a peculiar angle, forcing her to hop on her left knee. I was saddened when she stopped popping round for a bite to eat about a year ago. I suppose she must have become someone else’s bite to eat? Well, this year there have not been too many pheasants. One bird popped by with a brood of youngsters in tow in the late spring, but she visited the once only. Last year, a brood was raised in one of the greenhouses which was a bit of a pane [geddit, Blog??], trying to plant up without disturbing mother and children. Early spring, an old scruffy male turned up on the estate with a beak deformity which meant he had difficulty eating anything but peanuts. So I had to use all my spare cash buying nuts for him. He got very friendly. He would feed out of my hand. He used to follow me about the garden. If I went litter picking on the estate roadways, he used to trundle along after me   ... sweet it was. Nice for me to have another friend besides you, Blog and Olympic Travel Bug. I suppose you have spotted I have been using the past tense, haven’t you Blog? Not a lot gets past you, does it? Sharp as one of my dad’s razor blades, you are Blog!  That’s why I’m sad, so sad. Yesterday, he was hit by a car (the pheasant not my dad) and died at the scene before the RSPCA could get an ambulance to him. It really is upsetting, so if you don’t mind Blog, I’ll drop you a line later as I’m much too upset to continue.

                            Colin