Down at Three Mills, the swans seem to have forgotten that this part of the river is tidal. This was all that was left of their nest of nine eggs after an exceptionally high tide a couple of weeks ago. The others are dashed about in the reeds and the mud. They did the same last year according to an allotment neighbour. And they are starting to build another nest in the same place. Dumb swans. You'd think they'd know better.
At home, I've taken to sitting with a blanket over my legs in the evening because it's so chilly. I'm enjoying it though. It means that I can wear some of the wool jumpers I've been buying from the second hand stall in the market. The idea was that they would be cut up and made into a patchwork blanket, but instead the house is turning into a refuge for old woollies. I've even got one jumper so full of holes that it's fit only for practicing darning on but I could not bear the thought that it would end up in landfill.
You'd think I'd know better too.