Lockdown day 62 - and I can't think of a title for this post.

The wind is dead. Long live the wind. Not that another one's with us yet. I slept last night without being shaken in the bed, and without the loud creaking timbers of the ancient galleon that I discovered yesterday was in fact The Pozzy, moored opposite us with her lines too tight, so that she creaks incessantly against her jetty whenever the wind is up.

This was the wind on the water two days ago,

and this is how it was today. Spot the difference.



The sky was awesome.



We had a visit yesterday from this little fellow.



It's a rubbish photo taken through the window, holding the camera with one hand that was also holding back the net curtain while the other one was holding a cup of coffee that had been on its way to my mouth. Not a good combination. Does anyone recognise the bird? The last time we saw one of these - it was actually two, but they were never close enough together for me to get a picture of both - we wondered if they were turnstones. Yes? No?

That's a pretty poor photo, too, but I expect it was taken through the window, holding the camera with one hand that was also holding back the net curtain while the other one was holding a cup of coffee that had been on its way to my mouth. It happens. Can any of you identify it with any degree of conviction?

One of the things brought to us from the house by Steve a while back was my favourite guitar. I hadn't played it for months, and it was like welcoming back an old friend

I celebrated by burning a CD (labelled "Guitar Fun") of  a lot of my favourite guitar-led music, retiring to the bedroom and playing both CD and guitar at high volume; one of the advantages of having no near neighbours! The disadvantage was the very sore left-hand fingers and the unforgiving cramp in the wrist.

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