The Sun Singers

There seem to be an awful lot of keen singers in my garden as lately, tiny ones with feathers. Spring serenaders. I know, I know, one can't really see them all in this photo, just a blurry idea, they swarmed the ornament tree, chirping the afternoon away, rather oblivious to the cats - you know, the ones that come in peaceful as well as more fearsome shape in this house - most of them little yellow specks against a bright blue sky. About 15 of them when busiest. It was quite a sight, and sound, and sadly very difficult to sneak a decent photo of.

But never mind photos, at this cottonball head time in life I truly appreciate and need little perk me uppers like that because my constant question for some days now have been - how much snot can come out of an average sized head? And the answer seems to be - a rather endless stream of nastiness.

I'm very grateful for having my wisdom teeth intact, all four of them thank you very much, otherwise I fear there would be a very limited amount of prudence and wit sprouting from this head of mine after these days of constant nose blowing. My nose has now turned very genteel and expensive looking. I try and explain to this genteel red light thing that the silver lining of being chafed, snivelling and dry is that red is always a right, in with the hip crowd colour. It has yet to be convinced.

As one rarely seem to remember how crappy one felt when snivelling, feverish under the duvet when one is (reasonably) perky well again, I wonder if that's a good thing to cope with the flu days of life or if that makes one less compassionate to others being under the weather? Or is it that I'm absolutely certain that Man flu is just nothing, nothing compared to my Woman colds.