MoT blues


Always a relief to get the annual MoT ritual out of the way, even if it meant missing what was looking like a gorgeous morning in the field today.
“Your car really needs a tin of new hyper-valve purge monkey sprocket oil”.
“Really really? Does it need it to pass the MoT?”
“Well no, but we’ve got a great big job lot of the crap to sell, and we’re trying to shift it for 20 quid a can”.
Etc etc.
And the new air freshener smelt like a particularly car-sick Mealy Parrot had been poorly in the boot.
(If it was a Scarlet Macaw, I imagine the back seat would have smelt of strawberries).
Anyway, by the time I’d got the vehicular *rsery out of the way and done a bit of gardening at Dempsey Towers (singing Goldcrest and still six Siskins and a single Redpoll finch fans), Good Friday was warm and sunny enough to guarantee a very busy coast, so I headed inland onto Plex instead.
Despite the resurfacing of the track, those ditches on Plex can still eat vehicles when they want to, always worth remembering as the season of the Dotterelless approaches…


(Don’t worry – I checked, there was no one in the Landy. Ouch.)
Dry enough to get the top soil blowing about, but a worrying lack of Corn Buntings today, despite the sunshine.
Hopefully just an odd day.
The Lapwings were ratcheting up their zero-tolerance anti-corvid agenda and plenty of Buzzards were up and soaring.
Later, the Rooks were in fine voice in the trees opposite The Morris Dancers at Scarisbrick.
Haskayne Cutting was quiet apart from Tree Sparrows, titmice, and Red-Tailed and Buff-Tailed Bumblebees.
Way out on the soil from Station Road I picked up my first Wheatear of the year – fine though he undeniably was, he was a long, long way away (ya first ain’t necessarily the best).


There will be others a wee bit closer I trust.