Robin

His is the sweetest note in all our woods.
The whistle of the meadow-lark is sweet,
The blackbird's rapid chant fills all the vale,
And touchingly sweet the unincumbered song
That the thrush warbles in the green-wood shade;
Yet is the robin still our sweetest bird,
And beautiful as sweet. His ruddy breast
When poised on high, struck by the unrisen sun

Today I had planned to go to town first thing, but I was really tired. I didn't have to go, so I decided against it and had a leisurely morning at home instead. 

Later on, Bri and I went for lunch in Morrison's cafe and then for a walk around Hartsholme Park to find a Blip. 

I decided to go with this shot of a robin in full song - he was making a very joyful noise indeed! I found this little verse, from a poem by William Thompson Bacon which seems to go with it nicely!

My beef joint for tomorrow is now roasted. (Small oven, so something had to give!) I'm off to fetch Domino's pizza for Zeph's and my tea (Jae, I owe you one!)  and then we are going out for a pre-Christmas throat-livener!