Given that it has been raining that light drizzly rain that gets you ever so soaked all morning we've had to cancel our plans to drive to Malvern, where we hoped to do some walking up (and down) The Hills, and just settle for one of our usual walks along the river with a slight diversion to the chemists (hence the cunningly disguised bag of prescription chemicals - you can never have enough Warfarin, we always say) and then, on Vicky's last day off, a visit to The Boston Tea Room for a snack (sliced apple cake and Darjeeling tea for Vic and a Bacon and egg tartlet-thingy and decaf tea for Dave).
It's a good opportunity to chew over (excuse the pun) last nights election results if nowt else.
Trouble is, Dave wasn't hungry until he had his tartlet, now at 12:30, he's whinging on about getting home so he can have his mackerel pate, onion, tomato and salad sammidges.
They are calling out to him, evidently.
Gone 1 o'clock now and we are now heading back home along the river.
This is the face of a man who has just seen a treecreeper fly into one of the trees on the right and run up it (hence the title of this blog).
If only we could be bothered with the hassle of carrying a proper camera we might have stood a chance of getting a half-decent photo. But we can't, so we settle for the memory.
Treecreepers are a wonderful antidote for election hangovers.
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