Young Rufus is quite a character, which is (not necessarily, but in this case certainly) a compliment.  And he likes his granny’s home-made scones, which is a further point in his favour.

But I will start with the events of the morning, which didn’t go that well.  We were woken by a bird falling down the bedroom chimney.  The chimney pot itself is about six foot high and there is no possibility of putting a ladder up and blocking it off with wire, and occasionally an idiot bird will perch on the pot, lose its stupid footing and fall down.

It was a dove.  And, when we moved the chest of drawers and then the board in front of the unused fireplace, it fluttered up to the ledge a few feet up.  So we left it.  We left the door shut, the curtains drawn except for where a single window was open.  An hour later, we checked again and it was still huddled there.  A further hour on, there it was.  So we took a poker and gave it a bit of “encouragement” but it just fluttered up, then landed back in the same place.

So I went and fetched the net from the hen house, where I’ve occasionally had to use it.  But its angle didn’t quite trap the bird – I could catch it but it wriggled out.  I had to – excuse the capitals – GET INTO THE FIREPLACE AND, SPITTING GRIT, STAND UP IN THE CHIMNEY AND CATCH THE SODDING BIRD IN THE NET AND THEN GRASP THE LITTLE DEVIL IN MY HAND and then wriggle out again, extricate it from the net and chuck it out of the window.

Lunch involved a glass of wine.

And then Rufus and his parents came over, and all was tranquillity by then, so the afternoon was a great pleasure.  It’s Ro’s birthday tomorrow, so it was especially good to see him.  And everyone was measured on the family height chart – well, just Dora, who’d never been measured before, to our surprise, and Rufus, who’s grown since the last time.  Dora is still taller than Zerlina, to her relief.  After all, Zerlina isn’t yet nine years old.