Don't get your hopes up

So this is a really grainy, wishy washy photo.
So I took it through a dirty window on full zoom and this is all I've got.
So its tail is hidden.
So what.

We had long-tailed tits in our garden today! And this is evidence.
We hardly ever get long-tailed tits in our garden, and when I have seen them (I could count the times in the last 6 years on one hand) they are so shy and nervous, I have to hide.

So, however bad it is, it's actually good.
Yup.

I was sitting at the kitchen table at lunchtime, looking out at the usual suspects on the bird-feeders, when I noticed a long tail sticking out. Now... normally when I see a long, striking tail it turns out to be a great tit or a chaffinch, so I was cautiously optimistic. But then I spotted the unmistakable little pink and black bodies bobbing about on the tree and grabbed my camera.
I'm not usually one for favourites of anything but long-tailed tits have a special place in my heart. I simply love them. There's something about the way they bob about in a little gang of tubby balls with their perfect bellies, looking like musical notes or shuttlecocks that makes me smile and feel privileged that they've visited.

The rest of the day I've spent baking bread, doing washing, helping Tess with her homework project about WWII, and cooking, and just generally avoiding going outside.
It's blinkin' freezing out there. We had to go out for a few minutes to take the dog out and the broken ice from puddles was like thick glass. I let Richard take the dog for a walk later.

Richard's just been to the pub for a sort of happy hour they're having throughout February, so I'm going to try to drink some wine so I don't find him too annoying.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
And if you can't join 'em, cough all over them.