Mist and birdsong

This morning was so misty on the Firth of Clyde that I was once more to be found hanging precariously out of the window in my night attire (I love that expression) taking photos of sun just hinted at on the Cloch light over the water and on a Western Ferry as it crossed, and the mist stayed and even intensified for a bit in the morning before dissipating. Now the next weather system has arrived and the rain is pouring down. 

While I was washing up after breakfast I saw what I thought was smoke drifting through the back garden and went out to see - only to realise that the mist had enveloped us good and proper. And in that mist there was this fantastic birdsong, echoing round the deserted lane from high on a nearby three. Not long after that the singer appeared outside my window looking for some refreshment after his concert, so the above photo is the best of a bunch I shot one after another. (He was after the pink suet cake on the platform of the table.)

After that I went to painting class, realising again how hard it is to paint someone you know really well without feeling it's wrong. I also realise that I'm too much of a literalist when it comes to painting - maybe a lifetime of taking photos has made true creativity impossible. Two church friends had joined the class, and the conversation was rather maniacally bi-lingual because the husband is French and hasn't lived here long. Fun. 

After that it was the usual routine of an early dinner, a rest, choir practice. The only unusual thing was having a new singer who will shortly take the place of one of the altos, who is leaving the area. I say "new", but we've sung with her often over the years, made recordings with her, done Christmas together, as well as having her in a choir gig as a stand-in, and it was pretty seamless.

And that's it. I can hardly bear to watch the news because of all the Johnson lies and the speculation about the outcome of the SNP leadership vote. For the avoidance of doubt, I voted early on and haven't changed my mind ... You can guess for whom, but I'm observing an old-fashioned reticence on that one. And then there's Vlad ...