Sing City

I’m no country dweller. I mistakenly imagined I could be a couple of years ago but twelve months in the back of beyond, cut off from people and exposed to the elements (oh the cold and the snow!) taught me better. And six months back in my little city have confirmed what I’d already worked out: I’m an urbanite and happy to be such.
I miss some things, of course, but they can be found in the city albeit in less abundance. Birdsong is a more rarified treat but times like today when I am awake at half-five I can enjoy a melodic dawn chorus echoing around the brickwork and only occasionally interrupted by equally early-bird humans driving to work.
Yesterday I even managed a close encounter with a very cute robin who hopped between my feet as I sat outside a coffee house. He was after the crumbs from my blackberry muffin and returned twice more to make sure he made the most of my messy eating habits.
Later today I am heading down towards the quay where there is usually a vast (insert correct collective noun) of swans. Their bright white feathers reflect the winter sun and create the illusion of warmth when you are close enough. It’s a pity that they are always accompanied by screeching gulls who are more aggressive in their search for titbits and, it must be said, less beautiful to behold.
Wild, wild life even in the midst of my city. Just one more reason I feel at home.

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