Meet Mr P.

Meet Mr P.

OK. I confess. Tonight an acquisition from BE came home in the car with me. I gave the nod and Benjy swiftly covered it with a coat which we then bundled into the micro herb cool bag and into the car.

Meet Mr. P.



Being a bird of quite a lot of brain, this particular pigeon decided that the peach house was where he would like to hang out. The Asian chef Geoff has stated that these are the best strawberries outside Japan. Mr P knows it. All day he flitted from nibbling at strawberries to scratching in the straw. If he hadn’t been a tired racer blown off track – it’s been really windy here today – he would have been destined for pigeon pie. Particularly since I noticed this morning that some of my peas have received the dawn chorus of pigeons and are hanging on for dear life.


For a ‘tame’ bird, Mr. P definitely took some catching. Confident in his trespassing he’s not bothered by camouflage.

And here is his namesake. The first sweet peas are out. An old variety bred at the time of the Second WW. I think that the particular shade matches Mr P’s eyes; red and fiery. No. Maybe that’s mine.


In the peach house, the first sweet pea.

Back at my place. Fresh from the coolbox Mr P has been coaxed out by a mixture of wild bird seed and cooing from another pigeon (see top left peeping out of the metal hanging basket) who flew down from the ash tree to check him out. She seems quite impressed, although Mr. P is oblivious. When I last checked he was strutting around on the flat roof of my extension. Well I must go. I’ve just been chatting with the garage about our sick van. It’s going into the specialist garage tomorrow. The mechanic was explaining the ins and outs of electrical faults and the vans imminent visit to the Ford specialist while I was topping up Mr P’s grain. I fear I’m getting too attached. I’ve got people to call with his pigeon racing number.


Mr P is draws admiring glances from the ash tree resident. He however, is intent on feeding.

Have a great evening X


Charlie is back! Watch out. An unruly regiment of watering devices appears to be converging.



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