There I was, idly depilating my legs, when a funny noise occurs. A sort of blustery bobbly noise. And I looked up, and a pigeon was sitting on the bookcase looking down at me.

So, naturally, I screamed, and ran from the room, and phoned N (who was in the shower) and then my parents (who weren't, but I can't exactly say that my Father was sympathetic), and then steeled myself to go back in, where it was flapping about, fortunately not pooing, close the door, open the window, hold the fairy lights aside, and encourage it out again. All the time praying that the second pigeon on the windowsill wasn't actually going to fly in while the first pigeon was flying out.

It went. The other one also went.

I then drank a very stiff gin and tonic. And all this before noon.

Now. Part of me rationalises that it was only a pigeon in my bedroom. And the other half is screaming, yes, but it was a PIGEON. In my BEDROOM.

It had managed to get in through a less than 4 inch gap. We're getting some netting to pin over the part of the window which I like to keep open all year round (unless it's snowing or below freezing or something equally annoying weather-wise).

If you want some photos from the recent rugby tour, see here. I dealt with an awful lot of scraped knees in West Virginia last week. Also with blisters, and encouraging the application of sunscreen and aftersun. Only one chap went to hospital - he needed stitches in an eyebrow. There were no broken bones, no torn tendons, no dislocations. This was very weird, and made for a rather peaceful end to my career as a rugby first aider. For, I am now done. I'm not going back. I want my weekends back again. Six years is quite long enough to volunteer to do first aid, and they gave me a gorgeous hip flask to say thank you. I also got to look after the trophy we won for coming fifth. It got dropped while in my custody. Edited highlights of tour?

• meeting up with a friend in South Carolina. Being on the receiving end of Southern Hospitality.
• Driving up to West Virginia, and getting to stop off at Hillsborough Yarns a second time, as the chaps fancied Mexican.
• Watching two of them successfully eat 6lb (yes, you did read that correctly) burritos. It took the first chap 25 minutes, the second chap 39 minutes. It was very good Mexican food.
• Getting some gluten free tortillas
• Watching the chaps skipping about during warmup
• Coming 5th in the tournament (one of the better results in the past six years)
• 50 rugby players serenading me with "You've lost that lovin' feeling" while I laughed, cried, and mopped up
• A rather good picnic lunch
• Sunshine
• Collecting lots of State Quarters (I have 41 out of the 100.... please save them for me!)
• Stonecold's seersucker suit.

Here. Have some random photos.

xxx

Well. Almost. I decided to join in fatmumslim's March and April photo-a-day challenges, and the results can be seen here (March) and here (April). It's tricky. I keep managing to miss days, and have to go back, and catch up. I'm still to do yesterday's picture (inside my wallet) as well as today's (younger you). And, since @greekphysique pointed out that a picture post without pictures is boring:

Howsoever, I'm liking the slight discipline. I'm liking that this is making me think about how I'm looking at the world around me. And, since N is doing the same thing (yes, there are more photos for April, but no, he's not yet uploaded them - I've just seen them on his iPhone), I'm happily seeing the world the way he does too. This too I am enjoying immensely.  Having a prompt for the day incites thought, and imagination, and this really does make things easier in one way, and harder in another "How do I represent 'tiny'?" "Take a picture of F's toes...." and so I did.

F is Tom's daughter (now, I would link to his blog, but it's several years out of date at this point, so I shall merely make encouraging noises about an update), and she is utterly lovely. A very satisfactory lunchtime was spent cuddling her, and feeding her and pulling faces, and squeaking back and forth over tea and salad and bubble and squeak. She's about 6 months old now, and incredibly pretty, with intense blue eyes, and the longest darkest eyelashes to frame them. 

Since then I've been home to my parents for Easter. The Service on Sunday was an absolute epic, around an hour and a half for 80 people to take communion. The vicar likes theatre - there's a brazier lit out the front from which the Paschal Candle is lit each year, a cross made from last year's Christmas Tree to which we attach daffodils (I invariably manage to knock someone else's daffodil out while putting my daffodil in), and at the end we all trouped out to the churchyard a second time for the dedication of some headstones for the memorial garden where ashes are interred. There was also something involving holy water and hyssop (those in the centre aisle looked as though they ratehr wished they were wearing sou'westers while the water was being splashed about), and a sermon that got a bit lost on the way. Two small boys in the next pew over were very entertaining. Aged about 2 and 3, the younger was inclined to comment "He said rich food! Daddy, he said rich food! Daddy, why did he say rich food? Daddy, talk to me! Talk to me Daddy! Why won't you talk to me?" At which point, despite the best efforts of the vicar to pull funny faces and make the small boy smile, his bottom lip started to wobble and he had to be carried out in tears, which wasn't really a problem, but the vicar did hope that no-one else would require such treatment. The elder boy could wink. I caught his eye, and winked, and was rewarded with a very excellent wink back.  At that age, I had a tendency to accost my Mum, and blink at her several times, very quickly, saying "Am I winking Mummy?"

And now, I really need to pack ready for the Duke MBA Rugby Tour next week. We've just spent 15 minutes searching for the correct sized bag (Duke 2010 vintage, as it's more waterproof), as I am unable to fit both my kit and the first aid kit into the bag. It was hiding in one of Jo's suitcases, which is entirely weird.

First, though, I think some tea. And catching up on my photos.

xxxx

A girl sometimes gets lucky enough to go on a weekend away. She gets lucky enough to spend time with just her boy, and she gets lucky enough to go up the Eiffel Tower on her Birthday (the lifts are terrifying, the view is terrific) and to eat Creme Brulee in Amelie's cafe the day or so after.

It was a lovely birthday. Quite the loveliest birthday. And I spent it with N.

Since then, I've been bucketing about the place like a lunatic, dealing with an insane quantity of Brownie Admin. Because, you know, if I get it done, then I can settle down to enjoy myself.

The silly thing is, I never seem to get the time to enjoy myself unless I make the time in front of all the admin....and that seems terribly wrong (and that attitude is why I ended up squeezing three days of work into two days at work last week, and exhausted myself in the process).

Oooh, and I managed another 10k race at the weekend. N got a PB. I was 30 seconds off mine. However, I'd got a vague idea that all I wanted to do was get round in under an hour, so that was quite the achievement in and of itself. Naturally, I have replaced the calories with chocolate several times over since.

xxx