After dropping Julia off at work (she works at one of the few centres in Nottingham that wasn’t closed today) I went to look for a sunrise. There was a small one, but as I chased it down it became duller, smaller and less impressive, so I didn’t bother.
I did manage to get a picture of a Red-legged Partridge in front of a backdrop of oilseed rape.
In some ways it’s a picture of all that’s wrong with modern farming – a non-native gamebird against a background of monoculture. As it’s the only decent photograph I’ve taken in the last seven days I’m not going to dwell on that thought. It’s a sign that I’m getting better and have now recovered enough brain power to spare some for photography.
I accidentally photographed a pheasant and missed a hare too.
I spent most of the rest of the day back in bed sleeping (I’m still convalescing, after all) and when I finally got up Number One Son made me an excellent beef and horseradish sandwich using meat left over from tea last night.
We aren’t popular: it seems Julia had earmarked that for tomorrow night’s tea.
If you think I’m unpopular now wait and see what happens when she examines the biscuit barrel.
Can you see the pheasant?