Strolled out to the local Post office to renew the TV licence (don't want to be one of the hundreds in court for not paying). Now I know the powers that be have taken TV licence renewal away from the Post Office, but our local PO is in the general/convenience/newspaper/offie run by a pleasant couple who are probably not yet Turkeys (see 8 January), and they have the all-important PayPoint.
So I queued up with all those good people paying their fines, and almost got my debit card refused - well, cheques are definitely not acceptable these days, and I didn't have that much cash on me.
Anyway, the point is that I scarcely needed a coat on, and the air felt mild and hopeful. A robin was singing his heart out in the top of a scruffy little tree; perhaps it was the same one I saw visiting our feeder this morning, at the same time as the blackbird coming for his bath, the sparrow picking up spilt seed, and the blue tit already searching for greenfly on the roses.
The sort of day you might get in late February. Catkins dancing in the developer-planted shelter belt - and I noticed that one resident has chopped off the tops of the trees that are growing just behind his garden (I wonder if he realises the effect of pollarding trees? Bet he doesn't).
(Picture added 9 p.m.)
I've spent much of the morning on an emergency wool-dyeing exercise (mitten crisis in Cambridgeshire), but once I've had a bite of lunch, I'm off out. Non-working, that's me.