How to do nothing

Today’s picture is another from my younger son (he is quite a bit older than 12)’s LEGO set.  The beaver has been magically transformed into an eagle swooping from a stormy sky.  He is knocked out by the creative and engineering skills of the makers.

We had some grey skies of our own this morning after two sunny days. This was just to remind us not to get too cocky and to ensure that we really enjoy the goods days when they come along.

The recent good weather had perhaps tempted me  to do a bit too much lately and in spite of a good night’s sleep, I was feeling a little tired when I got up.  I felt it would be a good idea to have a day of rest and as I often find resting pretty boring, I hit upon a splendid and effective plan to make sure that I didn’t do anything too energetic today.  I never got out of my pyjama and dressing gown so I couldn’t go out…except to fill the bird feeder of course but that doesn’t really count as it is only four paces outside the back door.

To help out, the powers-that-be had organised the London marathon to be on the telly and if you need to sit down and watch something that lasts for four hours and doesn’t get you too excited then a marathon is just the thing.  As so often in these kind of telly events, I am rendered speechless by the commentators’ ability to talk uninterrupted for four hours without once saying anything interesting.  I was born to be a telly commentator.

The grey, rainy weather wasn’t conducive to sharp siskin shots but that has never stopped me trying.

Male and female chaffinches in the plum tree.

A goldfinch making a poor job of sheltering from the wet weather.

A blackbird considering its options.

You can see that I was shooting at sitting targets which was appropriate for a day of rest.  Amid the gloom, I finally spotted a bird with a ring on its leg.

I was happy to see that its recent experience in the net hadn’t discouraged it from returning.  In fact the birds in general haven’t been discouraged and they were back, eating seed and quarrelling as if Cat had never been here at all.

Sometimes eating seed and quarrelling at the same time.

The light improved as the day went on and I was almost persuaded to get into some clothes and go for a walk but good sense prevailed and I stayed marooned in my easy chair.   It did let me get up every now and again and take a better picture of a nicely static bird.

A goldfinch putting its best foot forward.

A siskin showing that it hadn’t been stupid enough to get caught yesterday.

This one hadn’t been so keen sighted.

To help pass the time, I had put a rich dough mixture into the bread machine in the morning and when it came out, I pressed it flat, put on some raisins, sultanas and brown sugar, rolled it up, sliced it, let it rise and baked it for quarter of an hour and hey presto!  Chelsea buns.

If you ignore the lumpy one in the bottom right corner, these were a great improvement on my last effort.  Finding somewhere warm for the final rising was the secret of success I think.  The trouble with them is that they are highly addictive and following a visit from Sandy, the depredations of Mrs Tootlepedal and one or two taste tests by myself, there were only three left  after ten minutes.  Those three won’t last long either.  Typing makes you hungry.

In the early evening the sun came out.  The rain hadn’t quite stopped so Mrs Tootlepedal sensed a rainbow viewing opportunity.  She was right.

The view from our upstairs window

Sadly it didn’t quite make a complete arch.

By now the day was nice enough to tempt me out into the garden to look for new flowers.  Once again though, I put temptation behind me and merely stood at the back door in my slippers.

And that was that, a genuine day of rest.

The birds did not rest.