Hi doods It seems like there’s a grey blanket of gloomy Girls Aloud lurkin’ over Londres at the moment. Still, we mustn’t let it get us down, so girdle your loincloths peeps and go fifth. I decided on Shank’s piebald this morning so carried a lighter Wedgwood (mind you, it has a longer reach) Oy Vey Beckatina, a sewer had collapsed in Castelrau Strada and the Uncle Gus had to take the relief route which I drove down with Ruby, my ancient but trusty kipper the other day. Incidentally, I reported my Putney route incorrectly, it was Putney Heath not Putney Common. I know my birding pal Clive of Ramsgate (formerly south London) will pull me up on that mistake! Arriving safely at the Wetlands after a rather traumatic bus ride accompanied by faarsands of excitable 5 to six year old kinder! Mind you their minders kept them in order, especially one young lady who could have sorted out a Suma wrestler with a quick ami-uchi without a dohyo! At one of the exotic ponds I was quite intrigued by mum & dad whitehead lady lucks, so I enclose for your delectation Mr & Mrs plum pudding looking wuzzoes. The drake (on the left) has the whiter bonce.
Carrying on my perambulations I was escorted for a while by a handsome blackbird. I think he might have thought I had a bit of grub for him. Unfortunately the custodians of the reserve frown upon feeding the oiseaux. Mind you, that doesn’t apply to non residents so a garibaldi would have been welcomed by that amiable and trusting Richard the Third.
My last stop was the Wildlife hide where I was intrigued by the whizzing about of a little grebe youngster. When he looked straight at me I thought he resembled a stoat, and we know what little tinkers they are.
Hasta la pasta peeps x i Jah de Quack
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