There I was, half-asleep listening to the radio. Radio 4 of course. I can't be doing with that Toddla T and the like. And I've no idea what "carnival vibes" are, or "bangers." Or bloody Radio 3. Brahms' 7th Dirge in a flat. You would think he would live somewhere more salubrious. Anyway, there was this story about vandals in Manchester. They were nicking " mo-bikes" whatever they are. They have been hanging them up on lamp-posts. And they've been throwing them into the Manchester Ship Canal as well. Probably some school project or other. And then, a strange bird call was to be heard. A loud ticking- and- trilling noise. Shite !! I thought, what the hell is THAT ? What weird bird is it ? By the bloody Manchester Ship Canal. Cripes. I sat up and listened intently as this bird did its thing. Double cripes ! Cripes x cripes. Cripes ² Does Rare Bird Alert know about this ? Or whatever it's called these days ? p a u s e f o r t h o u g h t. In my half-asleep state, I hadn't noticed that there had been an abrupt change of story. It was in fact the supposed-to-be-extinct Bahama Nuthatch. It has been rediscovered by some upstart youth. Ha! I bet I could have found that ... I spotted it pretty sharpish on the radio didn't I ? Yes. Here's a video of it and its neat and distinctive call..... plus all about it. I can't actually put the video on here, it seems to be glued to the other end .. so here's the link ... www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/bahamas-nuthatch-discovery-endangered-bird-extinct-spotted-uea-hurricane-matthew-video-a8503281.html But the thing is .... it's another example of that "parallel world" us top (?) birders inhabit .... from the 1000's of hours we've spent latching on to every tiniest wisp of sound that zillions of birds have produced, we've stuffed our brains with a huge data-bank of them. And when we hear something that's not in there ... we say ( well, in the North anyway) " Ey-up! " The Welsh would probably say " R'Arglwydd ! ( The Lord) Down South they probably say "Oh my golly gosh" or " how spiffing." As for the Scots ... " Jings ! Help me Bob !! " Very topically, here's the excellent Cerys Matthews .. Arglwydd Dyma Fi ...
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Years and years ago I twitched the Blackpool Sabines Gull. There it is up there.... I drew it for the front cover of the Fylde Bird Club Bird Report, mainly because I had told them that their recent cover pictures had been crap. As you can see, like Geraldine Harkness-Green, I took the minimalist approach. I wrote about her here .... well worth a look ..... 17-all-bird-poetry-is-crap.html ... in fact, she was the first mini-minimalist ! There was quite a crowd, of course, and it showed really well, but while the Sabines was elsewhere temporarily we turned our jellyscopes out to sea, to see the sea, if you see what I mean. Well, a couple of us spotted something odd way way out, and at first we thought it was just an escaped buoy, or a piece of brightly-coloured stick. But as it drifted closer , we worked out that it was an upstretched arm, and the bright colour was the sleeve of a waterproof jacket. Crumbs. So we called the police and after a while 2 ad males and an ad female police-persons arrived and strode down to the shoreline, and the body was now only a short distance away. After a short confab, they decided that the female was going to go and pull the body out ...so she hoicked her skirt up round her waist and waded out , and hauled the poor devil out and up the beach. We were impressed. I don't know if she knew that about 50+ jellyscopes were trained on her every move. Just in case the Sabines flew by. You never know. We reckoned that they got her to do it because of the possibility of hoicking ! The body looked horribly stiff and cold .... it turned out that it was the body of a man who had fallen from a fishing boat on the N. Wales coast a few days before. It certainly put a bit of a gloomy feel to the whole proceedings. But that wasn't the last dead body I found whilst birding . Oh no. But that's for another time .... this one's been gloomy enough. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Music time ... Dolly ... "Un Peu de Mer" ..... J'ai peur
De ce qui m'entoure De trahir mon parcours Ou qu'il cesse Mais pour qui sonne le glas Pour qui je ne chante pas A tue tête Je vois des reproches Dans chaque rivière qui borde Mes rêves ne t'épousent ils pas Car je crois que l'on a Un peu de mer dans chaque poche Tu me coules A chacun de tes pas Je meurs D'envie de lire Dans tes yeux Ma seule confession Car je vois des reproches Dans chaque rivière qui borde Mes rêves ne t'épousent ils pas ? Car je crois que l'on a Un peu de mer dans chaque poche Tu me coules A chacun de tes pas De tes pas Bah! Yesterday I was doing a spot of birding at a local birding spot, as you do .... we'd scoped two smashing Ruffs and a Common Sand and various other bits and bobs when , looking upwards, I picked up on a smashing Great White Egret flying over. We watched it galumphing through the sky into the distance ...wooo ! .... and then I realised it was going bang in the direction of my blasted house. Hey... I can remember when they were proper rarities. Crumbs. Of course, the chance of that really happening was pretty low ... it could change tack at any time, it could turn around and fly back over us, and it could just land anytime it liked. But knowing that there was even a small chance that I might, in another time-line or a very slightly different universe, have got it over the house, created a little glob of sadness in my heart. It's still there a day later. When you've been keeping a house list for yonks ( that's quite a long time) it gets harder and harder to get new stuff. So each "miss" like that , even a tenuous, dinky chance like that hits hard. But one of the good things about birding is that, ultimately, it doesn't really matter. That's one of the attractions of stuff like footy .. .. it's absorbing, exciting, ever-changing, but it doesn't actually matter. Unlike most of the rest of what the papers and news are full of. And we need that in our lives. And looking out of my attic window, House Martins are buzzing around, the Swifts went a few days ago, there were hardly any Swallows all summer anyway, and I've just heard a Jay racketing away. All's right in the tiny world. And now, a clever song about a love affair run backwards .... he goes back in time from the pain of the break-up, finishing up with getting her back ! Somehow it seems relevant to what I've just been writing ... Every god damn day since you left me Hung me dry betrayed and you effed me I'm bereft depressed and so confused Didn't quiet understand what you wanted You'd shoot down superman if you hunted No one safe in sights you use With red flags and shopping bags You don't spare them horses Just spare me all the grief and bitter rain 'Cuz I can't handle one more night You fill my heart with dynamite and Only one thing seems to keep me sane Play a sad songs backwards And I'll pretend that I've got you back Make believe that I'm not pacing up and down these halls Taking double fistfuls of prozac Can't take a full step forward Until I make 2 in reverse I'm tired of living in this broke-down, busted, sad Joanna Chorus Take me back into the verse I can always try to give a little love Good man always die That never get enough I say that's no business of mine! Lord won't you come on down and try to carry me I may need dose of shock therapy Have I turned my blood into wine? On all the surfaces medicinal purposes Mayday S.O.S It's true That I swear I'd do anything Including get up and sing To stop me now from thinking of you Play a sad songs backwards And I'll imagine that you're not gone And try to forget when I woke up at 11:10 this morning I was face down on the lawn I'll deny that I'm not bingeing On vodkas, red bull's and lucky strikes Until I glue back all the tiny little pieces scattered around of a heart You never broke I'll keep tryin to find my way (find my way) If you were years of heaven Then this here's ground hog day Play a sad songs backwards I'll pretend I got you back Make believe that I'm not contemplatin going to bed tonight On the local railroad tracks Hind-sight is 20/20 But I see so clearly Love is blind Tell myself it's not a broken record skipping off the shelf And you're last thing on my mind Play a sad songs backwards Play a sad songs backwards Sad songs backwards Update..... I found out on't net later on that "it" had landed not much further on from where I saw it ..so it didn't fly over the house, Mind you, it might have resumed its journey later on. Bah.
Unfortunately ( hum-hum) several of this year's exam papers used by the Flintshire Bird Club were "leaked" by some unscrupulous person. The fortunate thing was, however, the general public were able to see the high standard that is being set by the examiners... here's question 1 ... I think you will see that incredibly high standard they're talking about ... not only is the question about a bird they will never have heard of, there are several technical terms which have been used to baffle the unsuspecting candidates..... Let's see for ourselves shall we .............. [1] Study this extract from a paper about the Quelea in Tropical Africa .. " In the Tricolor the commonest clutch size is 3, while 4 is proportionately rather commoner than in the Quelea. The third nestling in a brood sometimes starves, which suggests, as in the Quelea, that the average clutch may correspond with the greatest number of young that the parents can normally raise." [a] Are you very sad about that starving 3rd nestling ? Tick your choice ... YES no [b] Which is the longest word in this extract ? Tick your choice ... as the PROPORTIONATELY [c] How many colours would you expect the Tricolor to have ? Tick your choice... you are allowed ± 1 either way.... 0 1 2 3 4 83 [d] What do you think the most suitable average would be for this study. Tick your choice .. make it clear what you MEAN. MEAN MEDIAN MODE [e] If you wished to draw a graph of the data, which of these would you use ... Tick your choice... Newspaper Sandpaper Graph Paper Tracing paper Toilet paper. [f] The full name of the Quelea in this study is the ?????-Faced Quelea. Which of these ,in your opinion, is its correct name ? Tick your response..... Lack-Faced Quelea Back-Faced Quelea Slack-Faced Quelea Black-Faced Quelea Sack-Faced Quelea Blank-Faced Quelea ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So ... there you have it ... a rigorous and testing test ranging over such topics as the high mortality rate of young birds, technical terms ( are they too long these days ?), bird nomenclature, statistics, graphical representation of data and of course, interpretation of pictorial representations of exotic species requiring close, concentrated reading of the questions and a broad, but flexible, knowledge base. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hey... I might show you some of the other questions ... in the public interest of course........... But now, after all that academic, er, stuff, here's the excellent Yelle and a video that gets sillier as it goes along ... could it be an allegory of life's progress ? Maybe not. Almost from its beginnings in 1968 Flintshire Bird Club has had a "ratings scheme" for its members. All members do a yearly exam, and they are awarded different coloured badges according to their results. In the early years, the questions were very searching .... not just a picture of a Gannet which you had to put a name to, not just a picture of a Pratincole's wing that had to be labelled with the feather tracts ... oh no. They would ask questions about the mathematics involved in bird surveys, about plant succession and its impact on conservation, about niche separation, predator-prey interaction ... there would be graphs to interpret,feeding strategies, speciation, nomenclature, cumulative frequency curves to plot and interpret, standard deviations to be calculated, population data to be interpreted, capture-recapture results to assess and the like. You were expected to know about insects, mammals, spiders, flowering plants and their place in food webs etc. You couldn't just learn a lot of bird's names and trot them out. You needed to do something with the knowledge and experience you had. The rot set in when they started charging a fee for the various sorts of badges. The "Expert" badge, a fine red one, would cost £50 The " Very Reliable" badge, a lovely deep blue one, £40. The "Reliable" badge in emerald green was £30. The " Fairly Useless" badge , a nice shiny brown, was £10 The " Useless" badge, a sort of sludgy brown, was just £2. They didn't pull their punches in those days. Ever since then, the prices have steadily risen, and, oddly, the success rate has shot up ! Crumbs ! Almost all of our members have got top or nearly top grades. And strangely, the nature of the questions has changed too. They're all much simpler now, usually some pictures of garden birds, some pictures of different sorts of nut feeders, a few multiple-choice questions where the wrong answers were very very very obviously very wrong, some colouring-in, and a few birding celebrities to identify. No writing of actual sentences is needed. This has all been done in the name of "accessibility" .. and quite right too. And it's win-win all round ! Our members are all brilliant ! And Flintshire Bird Club rakes in about £7000 a year ! If your local club hasn't latched on to this money-grabbing and mendacious swindle, sorry, excellent morale-building enterprise, perhaps you should tell them all about it. .All along the ancient wastes the thin reflections spin That gather all the times and tides at once we love within That build the edges round the shrouds that cloud the setting sun And carry us to other days and other days to one And full the single stillness of the mirror that is made By each and every one of all the colours in a shade Inside each eye is sitting like the sword inside the blade And longs for once upon a chance to open love's cascade For here we stand - hand to hand Fighting for the Promised Land And you try to tell me with consternation That you have found me a brand new lock Then you try to warn me that there's only one combination One new sling - the same old rock There is a famous straggler stood on the edge of time Who held the staff but did not feel the pain He multiplied the mystery with utterance sublime And crossed his heart for those who died insane His friend a restless mouthpiece 7000 years of age Trends to flash a face to shape his ways Everlasting light is burning bright inside his cage He's only got to breathe to fan the blaze Such a groove to have him here on-board Her Ladyship The man who makes his living out of bed Such a gas to see him flying through his ceaseless lip One day, someday soon, he'll lose his head And withering in the galleries with eyes fixed on the door Are who and you and me and thanks a lot And those who see but cannot stand to walk on any floor For fear that good is something bad is not But loud and clear is the call In black and white across your wall Damn it all, man, can't you see And you try to tell me with consternation That you have found me a brand new lock Then you try to warn me that there's only one combination One new sling - the same old rock By the way ... I hope nobody thinks this is in any way a criticism of all those young people who seem to have miraculously become vastly cleverer over the last 20 years despite expecting to combine A Levels with a full, drug-fuelled and social-media-obsessed social life and rampant self-harming and depression, or indeed the exam boards and schools who have steadily colluded with the complete and obvious farce that it the current grading system. No.
I'm glad we've sorted that out. " The Life of the Robin" is an account of David Lack's ground-breaking study of the truth about the life of the Robin, away from all the sentimentality that surrounds it. There's my version of it on the left, and the modern version on the right. I remember hearing that many readers of the book when it first came out were horrified when they read of the tiny life-span of the average Robin, and the dinky survival rate of the young birds. Many , I read, flatly refused to believe a word of it. Even professionals in the field thought the analysis in the book had to be wrong, though on what basis I've no idea. Wishful thinking seems to be a strong contender. Failure to take notice of what actually happens in the natural world. Failure to simply look around them. So ..I was pleased to read this review of the book ... "How long does a bird live?" is one of the questions ornithologists are always being asked and there is not a simple answer. There is a great difference between the various types of bird and there is a great difference between the average length of life and the greatest length of life.Many years ago David Lack was addressing an audience of learned ornithologists on the subject of his studies on Robins. He said that the average life expectancy of a Robin was a little over one year. He was laughed off the stage. Everybody knew that they have had a Robin in their garden for years and they were sure that it was the same one. But he was right. And it takes only a moment’s thought for anyone to work it out. No need for complicated modern maths - anybody can do it. There are about as many Robins this year as there were last year (populations usually fluctuate about an average); so if there was a pair in your garden last year then there is a pair this year. But in the mean time that original pair has had, say, two broods of five young - that is ten new Robins. But by the start of the next breeding season there are only two. So: 2+10=2 So how many have died? Obviously, ten. So out of twelve (2+10) birds, ten have died - that’s more than 83%. Ringing studies have shown that about 60% of the adult Robins die each year, so of the original two adults only 0.8 of a bird will be alive this year (yes, 0.8 of a bird is nonsense but we are talking about averages here), so for us to have two birds again this year 1.2 (2 minus 0.8) birds must have entered the population. In other words, those ten young have resulted in only 1.2 adults - that’s an 88% mortality. Much of that ‘infant mortality’ happens in the nest or shortly after fledging. Ringing studies have shown that the first year mortality of young once they have fledged is about 72%. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When I talked about " failing to notice what is happening in the natural world" , that's the sort of thing I meant. It's pretty obvious to anyone that most birds have a varying but reasonably stable population, and if the young have a high survival rate, and the adults as well, the population should increase .. unless they're all bogging off to some magic fairyland of infinite dimensions. And very often it's things that aren't there that we miss. An obvious example, and very topical, is migrant birds leaving the country. We all notice faithfully when we see the first one... but the last one is a different matter entirely.. because by the time we notice they're gone, we've missed the "going" . And with the Robins, we don't notice all the young that die even before leaving the nest, we don't notice them getting eaten as fledglings,we don't notice them dying of starvation and cold in the winter and we therefore assume that they're all reaching adulthood ... and then we don't notice the contradiction that follows. If most of them are surviving, where are they ? Then there's even bigger and unnoticed questions...... Why aren't there more of them? Or fewer? Why this particular population level? Why aren't there so many flies that we can hardly see through the darkness ? Why aren't there so many ants that we crush 200 of them at every step ? Why are there only a few types of Starling, but hundreds of sorts of Warbler? Why are all Starlings ( and almost all species) astonishingly identical ? Why are the crow family either dowdy or gaudy ? These are the sorts of questions that nobody ever thought of asking. Until recently. Grrrrrr. Music Time here at M-B Towers ... I think I put this on here ages ago, but another go won't hurt. Klee... Zwischen den Jahren ..... No, it's not the latest alt.punk band. Whatever alt.punk might be. I went to Chester once to see a Dark-Eyed Junco. 25-1-98 it was. But this was no ordinary sort of twitch. Oh no. Let's pause a moment ... have you any idea what was unusual about it ? Here's a non-helpful, totally useless picture to stop you seeing what it was. It's an average day on the North Wales coast by the way. Above average probably. You've got to admire that fractus. OK then .. here we go.... Someone had spotted the Junco in his garden. And he'd let the world know, so that all us hoi-polloi, dribbling twerps and Dregs Of The Earth* could trail through his lovely quiet house and get mud all over his beautiful expensive carpet to see it. Which we did. Now that is true goodness, philanthropy and generousness-ness-ness out of all common-sense and r-e-a-s-o-n. I've been to other events of that type too ... there was one where all 50+ of us sat in someone's lovely garden for most of the day and didn't see the target bird. We had cakes served and all sorts. But what an interesting day that was. The big question has to be ... if you (or for that matter, me) found such a thing in your garden, would you let the world know ? I think I would have to. It would be a mean trick not to. But I'm not at all sure what The Significant Otter would have to say about it. I could put her up in a Luxury Hotel for a few days, and take a collection from all the visitors to pay for it .. except I would say it was for lost dogs/abandoned cats/the donkey sanctuary. I'm a devious old Hector. Plus ... I think any householder who makes the awful decision to turn their house into what is essentially a public toilet deserves a telegram from The Queen, or even better, Michaela Strachan, plus a Blue Plaque on their wall complete with a painting of the bird in question. Now that would be something. Stuff Banksy. So ... you might find a Veery in your Veery own garden this Veery day. And you'd have to make that decision. Be very (Casso)-Wary I'd say. But do it anyway... I think this is a suitable choice of music ... Leave me alone is all that I say
When I have nothing in me to give away A purple martin in her house, she hollers at me ( don't tell anyone) Why be inhuman ? Why be like me ? Like so many robins, like so many doves Like so many lovebirds with so many loves Like the songs of the bobwhite without any words ( keep it quiet) When we are inhuman we're one with the birds At six in the morning you rise from the pillow Stand steaming above me ; I slumber below I'm one with the blanket laying fragrant and loose You're one with a whipporwill, you're one with a goose ( no! no! ) Like so many robins, like so many doves Like so many lovebirds with so many loves Like the songs of the bobwhite without any words ( don't touch that phone !) When we are inhuman we're one with the birds So tweet with me and widely spread Your olive wings ; embrace my head Fly with me 'til we are dead And one with the birds Like so many seagulls, like so many hawks Like so many thrushes and so many cocks A swallow will tell you without using misleading heartrending words When we are inhuman we're one with the birds "When we hide our feelings we may as well fly away" * ..that IS an alt.punk band. Obviously. I wrote a while ago about that prediction that even a 1° rise in global temperatures could lead to a massive rise in sea level ...maybe 60 metres ...or was it 60 mm ? Or 60 miles ? Or 60 feet ? Or 60 Å ? And I pointed out that this would mean that sea-watching would be much more accessible to people in what used to be the Midlands . Bonus ! That's not the only brilliant thing about it though .. oh no. Surely the rise in temperature here in the soggy, dark, gloomy, cold, icy, snowy,windy, perishing Flintshire weather would be , to put it mildly, very welcome PLUS ... surely ,eventually, those lovely brightly-coloured birds from less wintry climes would start enhancing our birding experience. Trogons ! Peewees ! Anis ! If only we warmed up a bit Our birding would be ace not shit Trogons, Parakeets and such Would turn our rubbish into much more interesting sorts of birds described in such exciting words Resplendent Quetzal ! White-naped Lory ! Wood-hoopoes in all their glory Mrs. Morden's Scops-Owl too and the Tropical Bou-bou Yellow-mantled Widowbird (That's Euplectes macrocurus) Rarely seen but often heard. Hawks, Broad-winged and Ferruginous would be skimming all aroundous and Ovenbirds and Chuck-wills-widows flying past our kitchen windows whilst the brazen Caracara eats a passing Chachalaca and the local Smooth-billed Ani snoozes in the Frangipani while Bewick's Wrens and Sparrows ( Chipping) slowly in the heat are slipping into their usual midday naps As we, exhausted, then collapse. But then, I think we soon would see It wasn't all it's cracked up to be They produce some crap prediction But we know it's mostly fiction. Here's the impressive, non-fictional Bonnie "Prince" Billy with " Blindlessness." There's very few other birders around my local patch ... Curly used to be there quite a bit, but I very rarely see him now. The two most regular ones were, and sometimes are, Terry and Geoff. Not their real names obviously .. I don't want them to get big-headed. And the thing is, usually, ..almost exclusively .. I only see one of them at a time. And .... I can never remember which one is which. However, I have invented a cunning stratagem. When I see one of them, I say " Who's that other bloke I sometimes see you with?" And then he might say " Oh, that's Terry." And then I cleverly say, "Ah, yes, Geoff, of course it is." And he thinks I knew who he is all along! But there's a wider problem really.....here it is... I was at Grumbling Stumps STQC reserve yesterday ... and got talking to two sets of people at different spots. I've known most of them for many years ... but in most cases I've no idea what their names are, and I never have done. It's not as if I've forgotten them, I never knew in the first place. They all know who I am. I don't know how, but they do. It doesn't bother me ... but it does bother the Significant Otter. It drives her barmy. She knows everybody's name. She knows all the names of the people in our street, and the people who used to live in our street. I hardly know any of them. Two or three maybe. But I do know the names of all the flowers and trees in the street, and the woodlice and spiders, and the butterflies and moths, and the birds of course. And in many cases, their bloody latin names as well. Within 5 minutes of meeting anybody she knows their name, where they live, and what they do, the names and occupations of all their children .... what sort of toothpaste they use, the lot. Cripes. I think men and women live on entirely different planets. And we're both "right" in our own ways. And I know why. But now. moving on to more jolly things, here a song .... it's that Facto Delafe again with another remarkable video .... No, this isn't something left over from International Left-Handers Day ... though it could be. All... well a bit ... will be revealed below ... Once again, under the eagle-like influence of The Significant Otter, I have been "encouraged" to sort some things out. Grrrr. Anyhow, there's an upside to everything ( rubbish) and in the process I found a ring-binder full of ... crammed with ... what turned out to be my mainly-work diary over a few years. I don't remember writing it, but obviously I did. It's not all about work ...it rambled all over the place ...what a surprise. I found quite a few silly drawings, which will no doubt appear on here, and I also found a list of crossword clues. I've done a few of them ... ... and I've put them on here, because each clue (seems to) lead to a bird. Certainly some of them do. Why else would I have gone to the trouble of writing them down in my best handwriting ? There's plenty of them up there so you can see exactly what my best handwriting looks like ... The thing is though. I don't know where they came from, it was years ago, maybe I wrote some or all of them, I've no idea really, and I've found some of them ...quite a few actually, quite baffling. And some of the one's I have got don't seem quite right. The first one, for example, I think is FALCON ... it's the end of ofFAL and the start of CONcoction. But what has the "delicious" bit got to do with anything? All parts of the clue should contribute to the answer. I'm assuming 5 is Blue Tit.... Surely 18 is Ararat ... but that's not a bird, plus, it's far too obvious. 13 .... Canary ?..as in Canary Wharf ? But what's the "cut up" thing ? 11 .. Deltabox and diamond are bike frames ... but frame is 5 letters. Not a bird ! Maybe I'm wrong about them being birds. Oh dear ! I'm going to write them out "proper" now .... Here we go ... and the best of luck ... [1] This roast offal concoction is delicious (6) [2] Moves in the company of Royals and Nobility. (4) [3] What bamboozles the fish. ( 7,4) [4] Should we replace the roof (8) [5] Suffering from exposure to frost. (4,3) [6] This lad likes to kiss and cuddle (9) [7] Like an echo far away...... (11) [8] Could it have flown from a US state ? (12) [9] An absurd little bird. (6) [10] His son sailed on the titanic. (7) [11] Could be a delta,box or diamond, take your pick. (4) [12] I walked behind with my bird. (6) [13] Cut up business and banking district (6) [14] Engage in selling (4) [15] Enjoy a tour of the capital. (4) [16] Vegetable in a heap of hay (7) [17] Could be a 9 or 24 ****** (9) ( Can't read the last word)( Maybe you can.) [18] The ark's final resting place (6) [19] Belated Christmas gift (6,4) [20] Sound like a small farmer (8) [21] ? .. can't make much sense of that. (9) [22] Soloist with part of the orchestra (4,7) [22] Will elevate to a higher place. (5) [23] Cantankerous plane (9) [24] Which youth pushed headlong into the scrum (6) So ... all suggestions, rude or otherwise, would be welcomed. And now, to calm the fevered brain ... Bonnie "Prince" Billy .. "I see a darkness" ... and if you want to sing along, here's the words ... |
AuthorThat's the author up there ... I was young and sprightly then. Archives
October 2022
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