I was given some great Christmas presents this year. I have my first egg cup since childhood which adds a new item in my repertoire of ‘quick-one-pot-dinners.’ And boiled egg and dippy soldiers has to be the ultimate in comfort food…
I also now own the softest PJs ever made. Their softness has been provided, possibly at the cost of their appearance (fluorescent pink-with-snowflake-detail), but they are the toastiest, softest legs so I don’t care.
One present that I had asked for (does this scream middle age?) was a bird table (to be known as Pog Tiny Towers) made my a little old man who lives down the road from the Pog Parents. My thinking around this had a number of different strands:
- I hoped that the birds that congregate in the back garden would migrate to the front and therefore be well out of the way of Charlie and Norman (who, it turns out, are rather good on the hunting front but seem to have an aversion to the front of the house).
- I thought that it would give me something to look out of the front window when I sit at my table on the laptop.
- I thought that there might also be some sort of Disney-esque Dance-of the-Birds to thank me for my kindness in not only providing them with a bird table, but furnishing it with suet balls, peanuts and a squirrel proof bird seed feeder, full to bursting.
And what happens in reality? Forget the bird dance of thanks. Not one bird has been to visit. Not one. I have been told to be patient…but aren’t they hungry? They have it on a plate (well, bird table) out there and not a shred of interest…
Well, if they don’t find it by the end of the week I’ll have to put some sign posts up directing them from the back garden to Pog Tiny Towers. And maybe a ‘Food Served Here’ sign on the roof so they see it when they fly over. Then the bird spotting can commence. And should I get my Dance-of-the-Birds I’ll make sure I get photos to post here :o)