Yes, it's another UFO. It surely isn't a male blackcap? Or is it? It is a little round ball of feathers with a pinkish underside. See extra for a back view. The terrace offers a grandstand view of the loquat tree and its visitors. As well as birds there were butterflies aplenty, and the long lens on the Olympus means you don't even have to get up from your chair.
The weather has gone bonkers. Last night I once again awoke in the small hours to a crash of thunder and water drumming on the roof and running down the steep channel behind the house. It was even more torrential than last night. Yet this morning? See blip. I put out a load of washing and it dried in a few hours.
Lunch on the terrace. S made an old favourite, chicken braised with chicory and bacon. Served with mashed potato to soak up the sauce, and frozen broad beans that S thought were peas when he bought them. For pudding I roasted some plums with some shavings of fresh root ginger, a cinnamon stick, demerara sugar, orange juice, and a good glug of Cointreau. They exuded lots of glossy red juice and were delicious served with, yes, cream again.
This evening we had a WhatsApp video apero with neighbours B and C, who are self-isolating. It was fun, we haven't seen much of them and WhatsApp works surprisingly well for this. We ended up chatting for over an hour. Although we tried to avoid talking about CV after the first 20 minutes it kept working its way back in. Not surprising, it affects everything. I see the Edinburgh festival has been cancelled. That means people in high places think it won't be over by August.
Last night's "lightweight comedy" morphed into Truffaut's homage to Hitchcock, La Mariée était en Noir (The Bride Wore Black) in which Jeanne Moreau is a vengeful widow clad in glamorous black and white, tracking down the men she believes were responsible for her husband's death.