Every morning and evening a bird sings its heart out so loudly in my back garden that you could be forgiven for thinking you were in some tropical forest. (At this stage I have a sense of deja vu, so I may have said all this before - if so forgive me).
Its song goes in pairs or triplets of very short bursts, extremely varied and loud. I have taken a rather poor photo of it above, but I assume it is a Thrush. Anyone confirm this?
Last night we went to a drinks party in Southgate Street (we cycled so as to avoid the law - although I believe you can been done for drunk cycling). It was very pleasant, but I couldn't keep track of the number of times the conversation started with: "I know I shouldn't bore you with politics, but..." - which is a way of introducing the favourite gripe that should have been brought to my surgery that morning in the library (every first Saturday in the month from 10am - noon.) I came away with a bigger list.
I want to say I'm a person as well as a councillor.
The weather was almost balmy and we sat in the walled garden. Five days earlier we had stood in front of a blazing log fire clutching mulled wine at another gathering, such are the vagaries of the weather.
Don't forget: http://www.paulfarmer.com/