The Chatham Pigeon-Loft

Assuming that Darth's goblins succeed in their mission tomorrow, to render the loft above my flat devoid of beasts of any kind and hygienic enough to venture up there with no health-risk whatsoever, then today is my last chance to show you the current reality.

Perhaps you will notice that the efforts of the animal lover to secure the roof-level access on 20th August has not lasted the test of time. At least that has meant that I did not have to endure the silence after the chicks died of starvation.

I used my Storcase to gain enough altitude to pop my head up above the level of the ceiling hatch, having first swaddled my head and face with layers of silk scarf. A ladder would have achieved a better result but I don't have one.