The seagulls think they are flying along the cliff top here and have failed to realise that it’s actually over my garden. So far, luckily, I haven’t been anointed  with their good luck charms.

The gibbous moon has been keeping a wary eye on them as well.

I think my good fortune partly stems from the fact that the retired pirate over the road feeds the little blighters which explains why the roof of his house is white, and could account for his hair as well. His wife tends to promenade with a parasol.

I have been given strict instructions by Lo, she is a terrible Goddess, to discourage any attention from the gulls, which partway explains why I occasionally burst forth from the conservatory screaming. That and the searing pain in my shins ……….
(Well, one way or another, it keeps the birds away. Lo,TG Ed)