One of the HUGE pluses of the madness of lockdown was I started feeding the birds in the park. The other being reshowing of past films and TV - I think the reruns of Downton and Poirot was the best thing in my year so far. A few days ago I had a serious run in with two huge swans. When I wouldn't feed them before the other birds (like my favourite starlings who catch it in mid air), they started pecking at me, quite viciously. I thought of hitting them but didn't. Not because of breaking the law though I suspect Smacking The Queen's Swan is a crime (it sounds more like sexual slang). But I reckoned they might hit me back and they looked pretty strong. So I punished them by not giving them any bread. Today about 12 swans turned up including the two monsters (I recognised certain individual markings) - this time very polite. In fact rather more gentle taking bread from my fingers than the rest (who tend to snap). So polite were they that I stroked the tops of their heads when I left, which they loved. About a hundred people photograph me every time I feed the birds; I've become a tourist attraction.

Sadly now the baby starlings are normal bird size they no longer sit on my arms. When they were tiny, ten of them would line up on my bare right arm (I wore T shirts) and move forward one by one to grab a crumb from the palm of my hand before flying off. I loved the feel of their little claws on my skin. Passers by were transfixed. But the now grown ones remember me and sit next to me on the bench, catching bread in mid air.