Not Armour-Plated Enough

The evil fangs and claws of the otherwise fuzzy ball of cute presented Mel with a dead Coal Tit tonight. This was in the dark so can only assume the wee thing didn't make it to its normal roost. It's just natural behaviour, and thankfully not that common, but I wish she wouldn't do it. Of course she's now curled up asleep in my lap acting as if butter wouldn't melt. We get our own back, she's going to the vet tomorrow.

I commented to Mel that the tiny feet looked armour-plated close-up, which lead to the reply above.

Decent day at work before all of that, if busy, and probable hassle to come tomorrow. And two batches of macaroons made tonight for a dinner party we're going to tomorrow night (by god, how middle bloody class). The first batch I knew the mixture was too thick, but bashed on, and the shells suffered the consequences. Fortunately the lime and basil have worked out better.

Cycle chum coffee morning before work tomorrow, so at the very least there are bookends of niceness to the day that can be looked forward to.