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Time for a Cuppa!

The Magazine

For all the Family

My Day Out

Sylvia Lukeman

We live on the outskirts of Liverpool, near to the village of Woolton and for many years the varieties of birds have diminished, possibly due to the fact that we have magpies galore. We are visited by beautiful wood pigeons and doves from a dovecote situated over the road. This is in the huge garden of a Victorian style country house hotel.

For the last few weeks a small family of blue tits have been feasting on the berries of an old bush in our rockery In the front garden of the hotel there is a carpet of hundreds of lemon dancing and swaying daffodils. A heron passes gracefully by occasionally and perches elegantly on my neighbours roof surveying the local pond life!

On Sunday my husband and I (oops that sounds rather regal) went over to North Wales, a mere one and a half hours away from where I live. We drove over to Conway admiring its dramatic castle as we approached. .

My husband had been evacuated to Conway at the age of 9 and we go back from time to time passing the antique shop that used to be a butchers shop. It was there he had stayed only to return to Liverpool before the bombing started. On the way we discovered a lovely nature reserve and wetlands where it was possible to sit in hut like hides and view the magnificent variety of migrating birds.

After discovering that the car was doing-a-kangaroo, we made a picnic. Then up came the bonnet and happily my husband discovered that one of the distributor leads had come adrift and this was very easy to fix.

Another time let me tell you about some of our other motoring adventures!

The highlight of my afternoon was at the old port of Conway which is frequented by flocks of noisy insolent black headed gulls gentle speckled plover, and at our feet some unbelievably ravenous (perhaps greedy might be a better word) pigeons Before setting off, I had grabbed two plastic carrier bags full of crusts that I had been saving for weeks. In fact at one stage all that our freezer in the garage contained were chunks of bread of different ages and shapes!

The birds shrieked at us and my husband threw chunk after chunk of bread in the air and these skilful feathered fishermen caught the bread and shrieked and yelled either Oliver Twist- like or perhaps telling their friends that the restaurant was open. I had the pleasure of feeding and watching the antics and squabbling of the hyperactive pigeons whose pinks and greys and white feathers would have challenged and delighted any artist.

It certainly was an afternoon to remember.

*****

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