When you’re awake at 3.30am the shortest day doesn’t feel like the shortest day. It just feels like another very long day 🙄

Morning dog walk. The December gloom in the grey stone town is suddenly brightened by the festive shop fronts on the high street. Four pigeons, as grey as the day, search for food in a shrubbery. A bold blackbird hops along the pavement before me, his yellow beak vivid against his ebony plumage.

While I was out this morning I met a man with a little poodle. He was telling me he and his wife got it from a rescue centre when it was 5 years old and they were its 6th home. 😢 He’s had it for over 2 years now and it is a really good little dog so you wonder what sort of life it’s lead don’t you?

The clock in the church spire near our house has chimed every hour of every day since we moved in. It hasn’t always been correct. Sometimes the right number of chimes but the hands on the wrong time and sometimes vice versa. But it has stopped! It is now permanently a silent 4 o’clock. 😢

This is Capability. He lives next door with his staff and spends most of his time sauntering around the neighbourhood like he owns it. He’s fearless and bigger than my dogs and I think he’s wonderful. 🤩

Morning.

Morning dog walk. The river moves purposefully & at speed, undeviating & respectful of the town. I am startled by a sudden guttural shriek as a flying heron expresses its irritation at a mobbing gull. A stray white feather reminds me of a lost friend who used to call them angel’s calling cards.

Morning dog walk. It is a cold, dull morning but I am cheered first by the pure notes of robin song from a nearby garden and then by a flock of industrious long-tailed tits in the beech tree by the river. A man who looks remarkably like David Hockney greets me silently with a smile and a nod.

Morning dog walk. A heron flies majestically along the river, his wingbeats slow and effortless. The Wednesday walking group meets on the car park, Nordic poles and backpacks indicate the length of today’s route. The sun breaks through the cloud and lifts the grey town from its winter melancholy.

It isn’t raining and I can see without having the light on so already that is a huge improvement on yesterday and it’s only 8.30.

Morning dog walk. A young woman stops to stroke my dog and tells me excitedly about the pantomime she’s in. Dress rehearsal tomorrow and opening night is Wednesday. Behind the cafe two jackdaws squabble over a hazelnut. The moon, bathed in sunlight, is clearly visible in the blue morning sky.

Morning dog walk. The river continues its unceasing journey south. Its brown peaty water tells of its quest to reach me. A man in shorts sits at a picnic table. His bare feet rest in sliders. The roller shutter at the rear of a shop slowly screeches open, releasing a girl scrutinising her phone.

Morning.

Morning

Morning dog walk. The Turkish barber smokes a cigarette outside his shop as he waits for the first customer of the day. A wet night has caused the river to start the day with a domineering attitude but its posturing worries no-one. A flock of sparrows starts a sudden loud squabble in the hedge.

Morning dog walk. The river is loud and impatient but its recent rain induced fury has eased. A bold blackbird lands on the fence next to us as if hoping I’ve brought seed. The waning late November undergrowth reveals an ancient, moss covered drystone wall, long since displaced by post and wire.

Morning dog walk. The window cleaner by the hardware shop tosses his squeegee into his soapy bucket. The clatter and flying suds startle my dog momentarily. He apologises to her, crouches down and strokes her gently. I marvel at the old local road signs and wonder about the hands that made them.

Morning.

Morning dog walk. The low morning sun blazes a path towards us, powerful enough to dazzle but not to thaw the November frost. A man, obviously afraid of dogs, gives us an anxious wide berth and it saddens me to realise the loyalty and unconditional love he’ll never experience.

Morning.

How is it that on television they have trigger warnings before any programme that contains anything that someone might not like but it’s OK to hit you with charity adverts showing ill treated donkeys, dogs, cats or children with no warning whatsoever?

Took the dogs to the beach earlier and there was a dead porpoise that had been washed up. For some reason we don’t understand Woodster was terrified of it. He ran off in a real panic and tried to get back to the car. 😢 Seems to be OK now though. 😁

Morning.

Morning.

Morning dog walk. The bright morning sun causes the first frost of the winter to sparkle then disappear. The church spire looks majestic against the clear blue sky, its hands, still on British Summer Time, untruthful about the hour. A blackbird scatters a pile of leaves in its search for food.

Morning dog walk. The shrub by the visitors centre greets tourists and locals alike with a spectacular show of winter flowers. We meet a teenage girl in a hat which reads ‘I am not weird’. The river flows calmly and smoothly, as if reflecting the peaceful Sunday morning atmosphere of the town.

Morning.

Morning dog walk. We negotiate a fallen branch thrown across the path by last night’s angry wind. Gulls circle overhead and call in uncharacteristic harmony. The butcher, dressed in a green striped apron, appears from the back of his shop and waves a greeting to us from across the road.

Morning dog walk. A row of wheelie bins lie face down in the path of the wind. We meet a young dachshund who tangles himself in his lead in his excitement at seeing us. A blackbird’s alarm call tells of the presence of a cat by the church. The river gathers white horses and herds them out to sea

There is a Nuthatch on my bird feeder

Morning dog walk. The overcast sky combines with the grey stone of the town to create a sombre atmosphere, brightened by the festive red and green of the postbox in the hedge. A man on the high street is fixing Christmas trees to brackets high on the shop fronts. My dog greets a friend excitedly.

Amongst the huge number of wreaths at the war memorial today I was particularly pleased to see this one. “They had no choice. Their contribution should not be forgotten”

Morning dog walk. The mournful sound of the bagpipes carries through the streets from the Remembrance Sunday piper in the town square. Crocheted poppies in red and purple commemorate casualties from all species. I remember my father’s tears as he took part in his last village memorial service.

@natterblog.bsky.social Happy birthday! 🎈 🎈 🎈 I hope you’ve got something lovely planned.

Three men have been today, knocked a hole in the bathroom wall and put in a new window. I can’t believe what a wonderful job they made of it. It’s perfect. And they did so much cleaning up after themselves that the house is actually cleaner than when they arrived 😁

The dull morning suggests that last nights red sky was an empty promise. The gates to the old churchyard stand wide open as if inviting the townspeople to enter and pay their respects. The sun breaks through briefly and the hills reveal themselves invitingly from beneath their misty camouflage.

Morning dog walk. A man with a heavily tattooed bald head strides past us at speed. Two days of rain has caused the river to be dark, wide and sinister. It heads powerfully along it’s course, oblivious to everything in its compulsion to reach the sea. Fallen leaves drift just beneath the surface

Still raining. Woodster has picked up where he left off yesterday.

Woodster has found the perfect way to fill his time on a rainyTuesday.

Look at this house for sale on Zoopla Beautiful old house in a terrible state It’s totally empty apart from the books. Somebody has emptied the house and left all the books!!! www.zoopla.co.uk/for-sale/det...

Morning dog walk. A cormorant flies low along the river and heads at speed towards the bridge as if re-enacting a Dambusters raid. A shaft of sunlight highlights a small tree by the church causing its autumn leaves to glow red against the dull grey of the damp stone. A hidden robin sings above us.

Morning dog walk. Four swans fly overhead, their wingbeats audible in the peaceful Sunday morning. A man strolls across the car park with a rescue greyhound. They both wear camouflage jackets. The berries on the yew by the church gleam through the dull October drizzle.

Morning dog walk. The river seems to be running faster than usual as if late to catch the morning tide. A man on the opposite bank calls loudly to his black labrador as it lags behind, distracted by smells. The low sun silhouetting an old couple ahead of me makes haloes of their grey hair.

The owner of the company that put our badly fitted windows in has just been round to inspect the job. He looked straight past me and started talking to Mick until Mick pointed out to him that I was in the room too. 😂😂😂😂😂😂

Morning dog walk. The blue sky and the sound of the river soothe my slightly fraught mood. A man carrying a loaf and two large carrots strides purposefully across the town hall square and greets us cheerily as he passes. The robin’s clear autumn song follows us for the entire walk.

Two men here replacing glass panels in the patio doors. One has to be a contender for most miserable man alive. Couldn’t even bring himself to say Good Morning. He’s walked past me several times on his way to and from the van and no matter what I do or say he hasn’t even acknowledged my presence 😡

Bought these violas from B&M on Monday. They looked even sadder in real life than they do on the photo. Brought them home and soaked them in water and every single one perked up. I expected one or two fatalities but there were none. 10p a tray! What a bargain.

Good morning.

My brother-in-law is in Raffles bar in Singapore. No it’s never been on my bucket list. No I’m not jealous. Not at all. Not one little bit. Not one iota. 🤥☹️😢😭😭😭

I’ve just seen a woman in a hoody and on the front it said ‘Easily distracted by dogs’. I think she speaks for many of us.