Oh. Autumn approaches. This is hardly fair, where was summer?
Nights are cool, loads of slugs and snails still out on the town. Hamish seems to be eating the wrong ones.
Water keeps running out of the sky. Feet get wet that way. More slugs come. More flies come. Not what August normally has.
The bag is full of flies. But there are still more. Where do they come from? There are spider webs everywhere, outside windows outside doors on bushes and on trees. Loads of big fat spiders.
Mad Millie chased Butch, he dodged into the pots and ran a good angle on her and then POUNCE and a hiss and off he went, aloof and alert having won a sort of a point. She looked confused, was the point hers or his?
The woodpecker was training the Great Tits. Well he thought he was training them, they thought he was giving them free food at a new bird table. Hazels. Wedged into the crack of the telegraph pole. Tap tap tappity tappity tap. Nut cracked. NEXT! Tap tap tappity tap. Bits left while he was gone, in went the tits! Oh yes! This is the life, much fresher than peanuts! Lots of mess at the bottom of the pole, but who cares!
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