The silence of the skies

I have resisted reading Isabella Tree's Wilding, though all the Wildlife Trust types have said it's great and Amazon keeps telling me that I'd like it. Thing is, she's got my name and has the life I'd like: she lives on a huge estate that her husband owns, doing great things for nature and has written a book. I'm too jealous of her to read it. I bet her last name is not Tree and she just chose it to be all greeny-touchy-feely. I bet she has long curling chestnut locks and laughs a lot and people say how full of vitality she is. Let's see... OK, here she-Tree is.... forget the long locks - but, even more annoying, she published her first book when she was 25. I officially hate her.*

Instead, I got Rebirding on Audible. This too is annoying as the author is about 12 and has won awards for his work on TV and prizes for his books. But the book is fascinating - about the catastrophic decline of Britain's birds and how that's happened... and how to stop it. Copying Ms. Tree is one way. Of course, there's been no mention of declining numbers of crows. Either no one cares about crows or, like humans, rats and cockroaches, they buck the trend. Rock on, crows!!

Of course, I should summarise the book and go through all the incredible factoids - as I did to my father on the phone earlier. But work has been tiring and I just want to sit on the sofa with my old dog.

The dog smells of baby powder, due to canine cologne. But is in disgrace, due to attacking a spaniel in the park. Disgrace seems to be a place on the sofa covered with cozy dog blankets that I washed recently. It's not too bad.

* Not really. I'm sure she's wonderful. But I am jealous.