The party crasher

wpid-20151113_184941.jpgI think I  gave up awhile ago trying to dedicate my blog just to sewing. I haven’t touched my machine in such a time because of other projects, I’m worried I forgot all my technique. Oh well hopefully like a bike.

Instead last week I felt like a gatecrasher.

You know when magazines run these competitions, win an afternoon with your favourite band, or have dinner with Bieber or go swimming with Swift, you get my drift. I inadvertently  fell into this on Friday with a band who was not on my top list of artists, but I have their albums and I enjoy their music but aside from their lead singer I couldn’t pick out in a crowd.

By the sea festival was on at Dreamland in Margate on Friday. They has opened the park especially for show goers with the show headliner Hot Chip playing in the Roller Disco rink. Sounds like fun. Got there early (embarrassingly before the gates opened, uncomfortable), went into the park and had the whole place to ourselves. Here’s another myth, how ace would it be to have a whole amusement park to yourself? Answer not very. I felt like I was in an episode of Scooby Doo in a deserted amusement park expecting some villain dressed as a sea monster to attack us.


We had to wait for the newly opened scenic railway, so we headed towards the dodgems. Hot Chip had the same idea and followed us, It was only us and Hot Chip, nobody else. Whilst their lead singer dj’ed I spent most of my time blushing whilst trying to avoid hitting them, all the while it was filmed. I don’t know why I found this mortifying, but I did. I felt like a gatecrasher and I just wanted the thing to end. They were perfectly nice in the way famous cool music nerds are,  but I just felt like a nerd instead. I couldn’t get off that ride fast enough…except I couldn’t . The guy let us all go round another 2 times…By the end of that I was just going to jump off , even if there was a threat of a third.

Then we waited for the scenic railway, and so did the band. It was like following them in reverse. Honestly I was not being a “fangirl” I’m much too old for that, and after some disastrous meeting of  bands as a teenager (god do not get me started on Sonic Youth) I avoid most people with any degree of fame at all costs. But we went on, thankfully only once round and then after that I split.


Hot food, cold night. i didn’t eat the sausage.

The ground was still deserted. The staff was great for a chinwag as they had no other customers. It was a shame as I’m sure they would think twice about opening that up again for about 20 people.

It got cold, real cold but once I got to my beloved 2p arcade machines I was happy, lost £2 but it was the joy I had in losing it. We did collectively get enough prize tickets to get Rockette  (who was at home in bed) some rubbish Frozen activity pack, winner!

Band were great, but woe of woes the crowd were not. I feel like resident complainer of crowds. The only image I’m going to impart is people dancing, quite vigorously with raised glasses of wine. Yeah wine.

Velma Dinkley

I had to get out, I was squashed, hot and not having a good time. I stood in a bar cue for 20 minutes trying to buy a coke and dancing there. I had much more fun. Maybe I’m just Velma from Scooby Doo?


During the band interval break, news had been breaking about what had been happening at the Bataclan in Paris at the same time. It changed the whole mood. It was shocking, these people were just doing the exact same thing we were, but they were killed for it. Its fucking horrible, and terrifying.







A block like a bad run of Tetris.

I’ve got writers block, I’ve had it for a few weeks now. I could really do without it at the moment as I have some deadlines coming up and I need to be going for gold all of the time.. But I’m not . I’m looking for inspiration which last’s about 10 minutes, then it’s back to distraction.

I’m easily distracted. I get a cuppa, I go to eat something, put tv on, even do the dusting ffs. This is what I’m doing now, I should be coming up with small pieces of witty gems but instead I’m watching Dave Gorman and writing this instead.

I’m sorry I should have put up some pictures of the quilting blocks I’ve  been working on, but I haven’t taken any photos of my current projects …. Oh lets talk about the horrors of  taking photos indoors of fabric in good light in Autumn in the UK. Let’s not it’s too difficult. It’s more difficult when you a) don’t have any proper lighting gear and b) you’ve not got many photography skills to begin with.

Well this entry isn’t going to win me any new followers so l’ll just add this week photographic curiosities. Which does include a block I have made.


That’s a nice bit of quilting I’ve done there if I do say so myself. hashtag fakefreemotionrevolution (I can’t find the hash tag key on my Mac).


I can’t lay claim to making this, it was all Mr CM’s handiwork but she was part of my weekend. I should have taken a photo of the 20 minute q I waited in at the Canterbury Food festival for a wrap. The wrap was ok, but not VERY GOOD as the people behind me claimed it to be. Shouldn’t of listened to them, they were strangers after all…. and I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping to be fair.


That’s not a bad photo. I did take that.


Trying to waste 20 minutes at work.

Sorry about that… my procrastination is of no interest. Next entry I’ll try to have something of a bit more worth.

Punk Rock Lanyards

There is a lot going on in the head and in the house of the Crafty Mastermind at the moment, all of which I will reveal in the next few weeks, but I have been dropping bits here and there .

I am trying desperately to finish some projects but that Negroni shirt still remains arm less and the  feathers quilt is still unfinished and my mum’s gift is a month late and still no where near complete…sigh and I need to start on a whole world of other things.

Here is this weeks crafty effort.


My lanyard decided it had enough, there were no spares. Out came the staples and I must say I like my new punk looking lanyard, it moves me slightly away from the “not a qualified librarian ” look that I’m going for. I might do the whole lot in staples.

Its not very exciting I l know, but it’s all I’ve got for the moment.

On the street where you lived

Whats a house? If you look at pictures of my street it has hardly changed in 100 years. The only difference is that where there was a large garden there is now a car park, but that’s it.

I was trawling google earth street view in Victoria, Australia to try to find an old gym for another blog entry, but while I was there I thought I’d look up my Nan’s old address which I spent much of my bored childhood.

I wish I was prepared for what I saw.


My grandparents bought the place in the 60’s and lived in it until the mid 90’s. to them it must have been the Australian dream that they immigrated for, and then properly wogged (Australian terms) it up.

The brickwork, the concrete swans, the fancy iron work. I’m being unfair in a way it was mild really. What was different to the rest of the street was the carefully manicured lawn and flower beds in the front (my nan thought they were more posh, a nice front yard will do that to a person).

My favorite thing was the building to the side of the house that looked like a garage that was really a small flat. The trick was to put a rolling garage door in front of the brick wall. I even lived in that “garage” for 3 months in 1980 while my father was building an alpine style wog mansion of his own.

I have memories of peeling broad beans for my grandfather (child slave labour), keeping my distance from snoopy the psychopathic dog that was tied up, the first place I was dropped on my head, (my uncle is still boasting that he dropped me) and longing to gome home so I can watch T.V, instead of having to listen to the Maltese news REALLY LOUDLY on the radio while my Nan sang oh my Marie. The only entertainment we got was watching my Nan pop out her false teeth and cross her eyes at the same time.

So when my parents left us there over the weekend, the night would go as follows.

Sit at the table which was covered in a thick fabric table-cloth followed by a further 2 plastic cloths and DONT MOVE. This could go on for hours, brace yourself.

Dinner is served,  Some randomly bland Maltese food (funny that, it was terribly bland but now I miss it).  Have to spend the whole meal having to listen to my uncle, mouth full going “Aye this is bloody better than that bloody Mc Donalds shit”

Someone would break wind, someone would complain about another’s foot odour, lots of loud conversation, which to the outsider would appear to be a fight but was just really about who was going to put their car in the driveway first. For dessert we may have had some low joule orange jelly with my grandfather, because “she has the diabetes”.

Saturday night entertainment, Maltese style!

Sometimes this meal would be followed by a car ride to church in my grandfathers old ford with no seatbelts. Just holding on for dear life in hoping that the car doesn’t roll. (On one occasion our aunt took us in her car to 7-11 instead of church, that was the highlight not only was she cool and 19 but she had a toy gremlin in her car). But in most cases it just meant that we had to listen to the rosary said in Maltese. We didn’t need to participate, just sit there. DONT MOVE. I can still recite it today.

After that was done with we could watch a bit of TV, we were at the mercy of either a foreign film (because my nan used to “like them having the sex”) , variety show “Hey Hey Its Saturday” or whatever the Saturday night movie was on normally John Wayne. If my uncle was in it would be some horror film like Peter Jackson’s Brain Dead (Yep I saw that when I was much too young). We have to sit on the itchy floor because we were not allowed to sit on the plastic covered sofa’s . That was were the massive old doll sat.

kinda like this but much more upmarket

If she was in a good move she would put the special light decoration on (still keeping the plastic cover over it) I still love these I keep threatening to buy one but Mr. Crafty also threatens to kick me and the light out if that happened.

For a good nights sleep..

Then finally when it was time for bed, bed being an outdoor banana chair with 6 blankets above and below. A blanket sandwich if you will. This was most welcomed in the summer.

I looked forward to the mornings only really when for my nan would heat up milk on the stove and have real branded Special K. It is still one of  my favorite breakfasts today.

I sounds like a right bore, and it was. But it makes up who we are. All the boring bits just build up character,  I had many funny times there too. Probably eek them out in other entires.

So as I said earlier I was looking for an old gym in the area and thought I’d look at my nan’s place now.

HOLY CRAP!!!!!!! Stomach turning. What the fuck had they done to it??? I felt sick, sad and tearful at the same time. The whole street looked the same except this house. I’m so glad my grandparents never had google maps when they were alive, this would have crushed them.

All the hours my grandfather put into his front yard, all gone! I mean how did
they get the white concrete swan out? (It may still be there it’s so overgrown). Who rips out the fence and the gates?? And the side gate has been replaced with some dodgy fence? The hours my nan spent mopping the beautiful gold tiles on the front veranda I can only imagine are dirty and grim now. It was a lovely not too badly designed early 1960’s home. Now it looks unloved.

I fairness it looks better than the neighbours front yards,(unless you like front lawns made out of concrete) but that still doesnt make it right.

I know it’s no longer ours, but that bit of history has been erased, a shadow of its former self. It’s just very sad.

Here is a  good example of ethnic design…my nan’s place wasn’t as bad as this.

Magical world of Alice in Wonderland



Rockette’s decided last year that her birthday theme this year was going to be Alice In Wonderland. I’m not sure why she picked this as it was way before the 150 year celebrations had begun. She has that gift of picking stuff just before it gets cool.

This year I wanted to make the backyard magical, like the parties I never had (mine were always at Mc Donalds). I started planning a few months ago, stopped and then panicked about two weeks before that I hadn’t done enough.

I was going for thrifty Pintrest. Looks amazing but cheap as chips.

The paper flower pom-pom things were Ebay buys from Singapore or China or Hong Kong I can’t remember but I got 40 for around £11.


I normally don’t like putting picture of Rockette in here but there is a severe lack of photos with any detail without her in them. Dont worry, there were other kids there

All of the print outs were free templates that I had been putting on Pintrest for ages.  And the giant cards were a quid online.


That’s not even a picture of the completed table! I did want to put more china on there but the china was on loan and there was going to be 5, 5 year olds and a baby so probably not a good idea.


The books were borrowed from my work the napkins were 40p from Ikea and the frame I think was from Poundland.


Other things were picked up in sales. Like that beautiful lampshade garland was £1.99 in the Lakeland sale and the straws I bought ages ago from Waitrose for 49p a pack. Giant Flamingos a quid from the evil amazon.

The most expensive garland was a ball one that I bought from Tiger which I thought had a £1 price tag and was 3. I was ripped.

In the last blog I wrote about the cushions I made for the seating and the table was a tenner from Argos, we just sawed down the legs. But you get what you pay for  as half way though the party one of the kids took it down. But it served it’s purpose and did well.

It was hot that day, one of the hottest days the UK has had this year. The kids were melting by hour number 3.


The sad thing about the party is that I spent so much time running in between the house and outside getting food and drinks etc that I felt like I missed a lot of the party. Rockette’s Nan dressed up as the Queen of hearts and did all of the party games, which was a godsend.

Before I knew it, it was over . But at least I could get out of my Tweedledumb costume which consisted of a printed t-shirt from e-bay (2 for 14 quid) and a hot thick red winter skirt (it was all I had). All the kids appeared to have  a good time which is the main thing.

Cooking book perusal.

A few days ago Nigella Lawson’s Nigella Express arrived. I had wanted it for a while despite all of the meat recipes in it. Putting it on the shelf with my other books I knew yet again there was going to be no room, and that I had to rearrange. I swear each time I re-arrange them more books go out than go in.

I have my cooking books in 4 separate places around the house. The kitchen ones are the ones most likely to have the pages stuck together, the remainder of cooked meals on the spines and all dog-eared, these are my cooking bibles.


I say couldn’t live without, But looking at it now some of them are just there to keep the authors together. While were here, Jamie’s 30 minute meals are really an hour and a half.


Whereas my front room is divided into two,  wedged in between 7″ singles and art books, my cook books  have been thoughtlessly disposed because of kitchen overspill and it wouldn’t fit on the other side. I feel a bit sorry for this lot, the uncared for.


The other side holds more of the special occasion stuff. Making a birthday cake, or some unusual American cookies/ tray bakes, more Jamie Oliver (for the record I would like to say these are not my copies) and if I ever feel like it , Jamaican cooking. (I used one of these books once the recipe asked for 8 scotch bonnets, I wisely put in was inedible the heat blew my head was the only time I have had to make another meal.)


Here is also where I keep a few  of the book I like to read. Saying this I realise my history of biscuits is missing from this photo..mild panic..where is that?? What is there is a great book called “Eating the Elvis Presley way” which was written with help from his cook. Reading it with today in a world full of Man vs Food it doesn’t seem too bad. I suppose in Elvis’ case it was quantity not quality.

Nigella Christmas is another bible but It refuses to be constrained to the kitchen shelves. I also have a soft spot for Nigel Slater’s Appetite as it was the first book I bought when I moved out of home, It’s a good book to cook from when your skint.

Then there is under the stairs , I’m not even sure whats under there Gordon Ramsey, Tana Ramsey,Madhur Jaffery, some Delia (hopefully my history of biscuits book which for the record is called “A nice cup of tea and a sit down” ).

I should get rid of them (bar the biscuit book of course) but I don’t know if I can bear it. Even though I’m never going to make pork scratching or some dessert that I know wont work (you can tell the type). But say if I do need them in the future?…just say…

I’ve also kept in the depths my beautiful 1956 immaculate copy of Betty Crocker’s home cooking but this is for purely self-preservation reasons. It’s a thing of beauty it has home advice and crazy recipes. I should dig it out  and share the highlights.

When I was a kid I used to spend hours going through my mum’s dodgy cooking books, one in particular had a middle-aged lady doing a strip tease with balloons throughout the book. I’ve still no idea what that had anything to do with cooking with Pineapples and Marino cherries, since then I’ve had a fascination with cookbooks. But because Mum wouldn’t let me cook when I was younger (except one massive blue pancake I made when I was 8, disgusting) I didn’t know how to cook until my early 20’s thanks to Jamie Oliver’s Naked Chef series. From there I’ve amassed quite a collection, which some good, bad and ugly books.

Mum collected the menu planners, I really spent a lot of my childhood on cold brown tiles flicking loving through these.

I heard somewhere that people only use 5 recipes out of each book. I’m sure that’s true, probably even less for me as I bypass all the meat recipes, although sometimes I’ll try a Quorn substitute with mixed results.
I tend to find many of these books rather indulgent on the writers part in some cases putting in completely impractical recipes for any person with only an oven, hot plate and microwave to hand. Take for  example Yotam Oottolenghi recipe for vine leaf, herb and yogurt pie from Plenty. Looks really unappetising. That’s certainly not in my top 5 for that book.


Whereas some of them have fallen foul of fashion, the ones published in the 90’s look so passe now. I’ve picked on poor Nigel Slater’s the 30 minute cook, only because I didn’t have the time to go through all of my books. I know under the stairs something worse is lurking.



The sausages look gross and dry, in fact they look more like vegetarian sausages.


I’m not sure if that is the baked Aubergine recipe but I certainly hope it’s not.Its probably just “random vegetables I deep-fried after I went to the farmers market”

I guess your quite pressed for time in 30 minutes, and it’s probably more realistic than Jamie Oliver’s 15 minute meals (yeah right Jamie, if I had a “team” chopping up all my veg then maybe that would be attainable).

Sadly it doesn’t stop there. I wish it did and I would never need to buy another cook book again but my wish list is full. Nigella has a new one coming out and lately I’ve been interested in naked cake decorating , which omits massive amounts of icing , stripped back beautiful kind. And there are books and books on American cooking and baking I’m always eyeing up. Not so much to make necessarily but more to read out of interest. Then forgetting the books I’ve had for months from the library which I should really get my own copy to mess up like Heather Baird’s Sprinklebakes and Rachel Khoo’s Kitchen Notebook.

I’m just going to have to find more room.

Fightng like my ancestors

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The last few months at work there have been fights, a lot of them. It’s been tiring.

Normally I have a tendency to argue like my ancestors have done . Maltese people are renown for their short fuse. It doesn’t take much, Drop an apple on the floor, sit on the plastic covered sofa, touch their car the list is endless.  It’s also the style and flair which these are displayed and this probably relates more to men to be fair.

You can see it happening, like a small kettle boiling, beginning hunched and clenched fist they straighten out and like a cockerel their chest will puff out, you see it takes a lot of air to scream out a mouth full of obscenities in one sentence. Then they’re off, fist shaking, sometimes in their mouth, they’re yelling and going for it, occasionally kicking things around & punching crap. Lets call it passionate displays of anger. Although not physically violent towards anybody, it’s just more a tirade of abuse and anger normally accompanied with big sweeping statements “Your all fu@£$ed” to all of your managers in a meeting. All of these situations end in a storming out.

How many times have I wished I could have done that? I normally hold my hands above my head and say, “I can’t believe what I’m hearing?Is this normal? This is nuts” a bit more refined, a bit like George Costanza from Seinfeld.

Their (my ancestors) other key skill is grudge holding. They can hold a grudge for years, lifetimes even. The reason for the fight maybe be long gone, but the grudge remains the same. Genuine reason’s for a grudge have included  1) accidentally brushing against someones tyres 2) looking at someone shifty / not seeing someone in a supermarket 3) Making comment on how much money one may have stuffed in ones mattress. 4) Charging for work which should have been extra mates rates discounts aka free 5) Accusing someone of running a horse racing syndicate.

Overtime I have had to alter my straight talking Australian ways with my anger fulled Maltese passionate rage. There has been a lot of breathing exercises and just walking away, no matter how much I would love to stand up and flip a table over (which def goes against all of my genetic make up).Now I just have to pick my fights carefully. My ancestors would be so disappointed with me.

There is a video on you tube of an angry Maltese man I wont link it, you know how to search if your interested.

About, around and complaining.

I went over to London this weekend to see Belle and Sebastian play at Somerset House.


No review, the band did have an odd set list choice, they closed with a downer of a song which always has a weird sombre effect on a crowd (they should have closed with the party line, much more upbeat). So it was good, but not absolutely amazing which was a shame as I had been waiting years to go and watch them.

What wrecked the experience was the audience conduct again, I’ve complained about this before , I’m going to do it again…

Belle and Sebastian were probably most successful in the late 90’s, even though they are still making amazing albums. The audience thought it was still the 90’s. There was smokers right next to me, one who lit up every 15 minutes, who still smokes like that ? I spent half the night trying to hold my breath and breathe in the opposite direction, didn’t work still got a headache.

There were people taking selfies during every song. Yay your here, now annoy everyone around you and pose idiotically for photos of yourself.

But worse than that was the audience treating the band like they were some CD on in the background. There were times I could barely hear the songs for mindless chatter about god knows what, school fees, house prices, what wines they bought last year in Seville…I’m assuming general wanker-y conversation.


Why were they there? Mr CM put it perfectly, it seemed like a piece of paper (newspaper say, we know which one) told them they should be here (to appear to be cool) so they all came. It was unbelievable and this situation is getting worse as I get older. Teen’s and people in their 20’s are more musically intense and there to immerse themselves in the experience & the music. Beyond that there are more and more who would rather get drunk and talk loudly about how amazing they are .It’s bloody annoying and rude.

On the up side I did go to liberty, I went because I was dressed for it (in a nice dress) and no one would think I was a shop lifter and follow me around (which is what happened when I went in 2003). Did pick up two fantastic Oliver + S patterns for a fiver each, who would have guessed In Liberty of all places. And they put your receipt in a little card….class.

I also ate cake and doughnuts, a lot of them. I justified that it helped my stress levels come down (which it did).


Liberty also had two of the most beautiful quilts hanging in the store to celebrate their 140th anniversary. I’ve been looking lately at a book called Art Quilting which I may just buy and do a quilt more like these ones.



Before there was quilting

It took me into my 30’s to get into sewing/quilting . Before that I had a huge amount of creative energy with no real outlet. I tried drawing and painting (oh my god I suck more at that than knitting) , baking (as you all know I still do) and even scriptwriting (one completed script which I still think is funny and a lot better than a lot of dross that comes on film. Just wasn’t happy with the main story line.)


In the middle of all of this I did a stamp piece. I thought of this when I had gone past an art gallery widow a few days ago and someone had made something not as great, more like a Pantone chart and was changing £300 for it.

I had just moved to York from Australia in the early 2000’s and I was still half heartedly collecting stamps and postcards(Still do if I find a particullary bad one from the 70’s) .

I went past a small stamp shop that was selling huge bags of 1st and second class stamps for about £2. Kind of like a magpie, I was taken in by all of the colours in the massive bag and it was a bargain. I took it back to the shared house and spent the next 2 months cutting them all out neatly (a lot were still attached to corners of envelopes and postcards).

occasionally there would be a hidden gem printed on these.

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It made me think of the life of the letter, what was attached to the stamp? What secrets did it hold? Was the recipient please to receive the letter?

I painstakingly  glued each small square in a straight line and laid the out. I loved it. I have moved all over the UK and it has hung on my walls wherever I’ve lived.



As I’m putting together a rainbow quilt now I realised that this was my first quilt, my first paper quilt.

Magic Mushroom’s

That title may misleading!

Right I’ve already written this entry and it didn’t automatically save. Now I’m a bit upset and I have to remember everything I wrote. It won’t be as good probably, it never is the second time around. I’ll endeavour.

Back to magic mushrooms, It’s getting closer to Rockette’s Alice in Wonderland birthday party and I’m starting to trial run some baking before the big day. Today’s choice was Mushroom cookies from my favourite baking book Sparkle Bakes by Heather Baird.

I did have my suspicions about this recipe . It wants half a cup of flour and a cup and a half of corn flour, yes corn flour! I’ve only used corn flour for gravies. Does it go into custard too?

It all started wrong, I blame the heat and the fact that there was still a bird trapped in the chimney brest (more on that later). But to start with Instead of creaming the butter and sugar together first,  I chucked the egg straight into the sugar and mixed. By the time I realised I had two options, either chuck it out and start again or just go on and see what happens. I went for the later. hmm

So before they went into the oven they looked like this

oh, how realistic!

oh, how realistic!

But they came out like this

what in the world....

what in the world….

That is my recycle bin and not a new kind of serving platter.

They look more like frisbees than mushrooms! The oven was too hot (the oven being troublesome again) and the bake time said 25 minutes,  now I’m not really a biscuit baking consultant   (on eating them,  yes) . I have baked a few batches though and my instinct told me 25 minutes is a bit too long.  Should have checked them at 15.

So while I was waiting for the bird remover man (not his real job) to show up I thought forget this ,I’m going to make them again.

By now  didn’t have enough cornflour left, so I put in what was left  (1 cup) and used flour for the rest. I don’t know what was wrong with me because I did the same bloody mistake again! Egg and sugar together. Lucky I took the egg out and chucked out the sugar and started again (idiot).

I also turned down the oven temperature, let the batter to sit in the fridge for 10 minutes and only baked it for 15 minutes.

I really ned to take the course how to use your camera phone like a competent person ASAP.

I really ned to take the course how to use your camera phone like a competent person ASAP.

Better but still flat.


They tasted nice, but they are really crumbly. And I still can taste a lot of the corn flour.

Next time I’m going to try adding more butter and swapping the corn flour for plain flour . I’ll also bake them in a cupcake/ muffin tin to see if they would hold their shape better. I know a few bakers read this lil blog, any advice?

If you want to try it for yourself you can find the recipe here.

btw, the way to make the stem is to get a soft drink/ water bottle, dip it coca powder and press into the ball of dough. Just in case you were wondering.


Like I said in yesterday’s post, something had fallen down the chimney and was sitting at the bottom with nowhere for it to go.

By the time help came I was concerned that whatever was in there was dead because I only heard it once again in the morning. I had a longer dramatic story but it’s 11.19 pm , I’ve been to work and I can’t write it out in the same magical way.

While I hid behind the door, the vent was removed and it was confirmed that something did lurk in there. A MASSIVE wood-pigeon. I very much dislike the wood pigeon, not as much as chickens but more than eagles.

The bird appeared to be pleased with where he was , as he was reluctant  leave. When he was dragged out I could hear his dirty claws over the floor boards and I was praying that there wasn’t poo all over the place.

When I finally did go in I saw the poor bird a bit confused sitting on my front door step. Before I could say oh poor thing  the bird removal help had shooed it out of the door with a gentle kick. And off it went thankfully uninjured. I didn’t want to deal with that.

And amazingly left no “presents”for me on the floor, thankyou pigeon it was the least you could do.