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How many times did the children say ‘Don’t Care’! Of course the change would happen but as I lay in bed last night tired, low in mind, I found myself saying ‘I really don’t care anymore’… As I looked out at the corner of the eaves I watched the sparrows still in the light of day, coming and going into their home. Presumably now feeding their chicks. We have four house sparrow nests around the house under the eaves. One sparrow sets off the house camera alarm every day as it starts its’ exit and entry into their home and nest. The one thing from my bed I can actually see two of the entrances to the nests and watch as these little birds are back and forth from dawn to dusk. At the same time I have noted and shouted at the jackdaws, rooks, crows and magpies who are aware of the coming and goings of these little workers. I have seen these (in my view) horrible birds perched on the edge looking over the roof tile into the nest holes. They know. I know as well that there will come the time when the parents will be looking at their little fledglings and saying ‘this is your time to spread your wings and go into the big world’. The little chicks will be ready to fledge and leave the nest and guess who will also be aware? They will be waiting and either pick them off as they take their first little steps to freedom or in flight.

How many chick fledglings will survive? Lucky if any. The quantity of predators outweigh the quantity of little garden birds, to include blue tits, robins, and more. I have watched one blue tit family, residing in one of our bird boxes, with five broods in a year all being taken if not by the already mentioned but I have seen woodpeckers and squirrels being attracted to the very same box. House Martins that fly every year from Africa to nest and breed end up fruitless because the main predators who live on top of the roof in their own rough abode see them as a snack.

I have lived in the countryside all my life, well apart from my time in Blackpool (best forgotten period) and London a few months enjoyed but yenned at the end to be back in the countryside which did not stop my from visiting the capital. Learnt and lived a lot in London an experience and so much of my history.

Of course, time has passed since my time in London and the last time I was there I joined the Countryside March. The best part of joining in was the feeling of being part of a great organisation and my memory was more on the architecture which when you travel by underground, taxi, bus etc you do not necessarily appreciate. Well that is my opinion.

From those little birds to dogs being stolen. Or maybe not. Been raining through the night but eased off now. I must check the bumble bee nest. When I lifted the base of the old shed off the grass where the dismantled shed had been placed for my recycling; which involved sawing the good from the bad. Taking out the old nails to prevent damage to the handler, me. Used to joke that my husband would save good re-useable wood but in the process he would cut down to lengths of a manageable that would fit nicely under workbench into the void. When I emptied the old workshop in anticipation for the new I placed everything under a tarpaulin onto the astroturf. When it came to returning the wood I decided to build a temporary wood storage box to hold all the good wood for reuse. Two days later I stood back with pride. One side of the old door from the old workshop had become the lid for the new box. Very strong, heavy and sturdy. I gave it all a coat of paint. When I looked at it after completion I recognised exactly how everyone would view this new addition. Mausoleum came to mind and R.I.P. should be painted on the front. Oh, dear how many people, especially my sons will think that I have built my own resting place.

I suppose you could at least ask has it earned its’ use as a wood keeper. Yes, all the wood has been stored away inside except from the wood salvaged from the old workshop which did not fit in. The disadvantage of this massive attention seeking box is that you can guarantee that the piece of wood I want is at the bottom of the pile and one day people will come round into the back garden and find my legs sticking out of the top with the lid, old door, on my body wedged inside. Perhaps the obvious is to return the wood under the workbench which is free where it can be easily recognised for what it is. We shall see, another job.

Used to laughingly say about my list of jobs and projects, which is never ending, and the truth is that as soon as one task is completed so another raises its head out of the blue, totally unexpected, not necessarily expected. I shall never be bored at home no matter how alone.

I have to consider going back out to work. Seriously, what am I able to do. What are my capabilities after years of looking after my husband, which mutated from standing in a daze when he was returned from hospital and placed into the hospital bed which had been brought into the home. Our king size bed had been dismantled to make room for the hospital bed. The home first crew, district nurses and occupational therapists all stood with me looking down at him. He was not due to live for long but he had been brought home where he and I wanted him… What a fight to get him out of hospital. I pulled strings all over the place and after a battle.

How funny is that I have just mentioned Blackpool and sure enough just been mentioned by Steve on the radio… yes I agree with his opinion regarding Blackpool.

It is time for me to meet the day head on. After all the sparrows and little birds are busy so must I get on. DCB Antiques and DCB Books will not run themselves and my lovely Clients will not be happy if I err.

So Adieu and by the way, I do care, that is probably why I would fight for all I care for and do and have done.