After Porto, we needed some rest and relaxation and spent two nights in a small campsite in the town of Vila Chã. It’s right by the sea, well near enough to see the sea in the distance from the gate.
Fishing gear
It’s a beautiful place, very simple, there’s no big supermarkets (although there is an outlet shopping centre 3km away) there’s no big shops, there’s very small cobbled streets and lots of tiny cafe/bar/restaurants. There’s also a boardwalk that runs along beside the sea.
The boardwalk
We’ve been here before, I think it was 2019, when Denis’ laptop failed and we stayed here while we were waiting for it to be repaired. We waited a week, a long glorious week of me walking the boardwalks taking pictures and not much else. I saw the small fishing boats come in every morning. There’s a long tradition of fishing here and as we heard from Clara in Porto the Portuguese love eating fish so they have no trouble selling their catch.
The Atlantic Ocean
This is a perfect place to come after the busy city and we needed to do the washing. Not exactly glamorous but I love to be able to hang the clothes on the line after washing and because of the warm weather they will actually dry. And it didn’t take very long until a washing machine full of clothes was dry. It’s funny how something like a load of washing can play on your mind because you have to plan to be at a washing machine (did I mention, there’s none in the motorhome?) so it’s a little bit more tricky.
Instructions in Portuguese, French and English
There’s the tokens you need to buy and the instructions you need to read (different every time) and there’s the queuing if all the machines are full. Then you need to be in a campsite if you want to hang out your clothes and some campsites don’t have washing lines. We did recently pass a petrol station where there were washing machines outside and beside the washing machines were clothes lines! Yes! And a woman hanging up her sheets! I have never seen that before. Also maybe it could only happen in Portugal? Is it only me who thinks someone would steal your sheets? Maybe I think about theft too much…
Me and the clothes
On my way back from hanging out the washing I passed a barbecue set up outside someone’s tent, and there were three fish propped up on a small barbecue, cooking. I did not have the courage to stop and take a picture of the three fish. They smelled absolutely gorgeous and I don’t usually like fish but if someone had offered me just a little bit of that fish as I passed I would’ve taken the hand off them (in other words, I’d have said, Yes, please!)
Here’s the only picture I took of the fish on the barbecue. Can you make it out? In the distance?Probably not…
Which is kind of strange so maybe I should just buy some fish and cook it on the barbecue. Or I should just learn how to cook fish on the barbecue. I think it’s the whole fish on Friday thing?
More fishing stuff
When I was a child we had to eat fish every Friday we couldn’t eat meat, well sometimes we would have a fried egg instead but it was mainly fish. Does anybody remember that? I think that put me off fish, except for anchovies, I love anchovies on pizza. I’m hungry now… possibly even hungry enough to eat some fish.
We were off and the first thing we learned was Clara knows Ireland! She once visited her brother who works in Dublin. Both she and he love Dublin. I was chatting with a friend on emails about how we Irish always think we’re going to meet a neighbour (or cousin or someone who knows someone) who just happens to be in the same county on holidays at the same time as us… And here we were in almost that situation… no, not exactly but you know we are going to look up her brother.
Casanatal and the back of Clara’s head!
Our tour was off to a great start, we were now discussing how very alike the Irish and Portuguese are, something I have believed for a while. We’re very friendly, curious, interested, maybe even a bit nosey? We’re a bit, sure it’ll be grand, no rush, have another cup of tea – the Portuguese love tea too. But Clara insisted we really had to get on with the tour so we did. First stop was an old fashioned grocery store. It was a small exquisitely cared for space. There was fruit, nuts, sweets, wine, port, tins of sardines and chocolate. All Portuguese products.
Love this shop!
Clara explained that these shops have had approaches from big food companies interested in buying their property in order to put in a fast food (or other) outlet. We felt very grateful that this hadn’t happened and we could stand in a place that had served generations in Porto. But I can imagine these shops and others like them in cities all over the world won’t be here forever, especially if we’re not buying from them, supporting them.
Marriage… I think that’s what the shop owner said this was called
Then we were off to the Bolhão market. This farmers and producers market has been closed for renovations for three years but now it’s back in business and it’s busy. Everyone seems very happy to be back. The market building itself is open to the air but the market stalls are covered. This makes for a very pleasant visit, no fishy smells and protection if it rains. One thing we noticed was plenty of people sitting around eating and soaking up the atmosphere.
From upstairs looking down into the Bolhão market
This is the market where I wanted to ask lots of questions about how I should behave in general at markets. Like, Can I take pictures? How will I cook unfamiliar foods? Will they gut the fish? The big answer is, Don’t be afraid to make mistakes! That’s actually the answer to most of my questions about behaviour… but maybe that’s not just me. The gist of what Clara said was, Just open your heart, trust your voice and ask. Most people will speak English or the other shoppers will help. And yes, it’s ok to take pictures. The stall holders are so passionate about their produce that they are happy to help in ways that allow you to support them. They won’t be here either if we don’t buy from them, support them.
Sacks of beans
Minerva have been canning sardines (and other fish) in a Portugal since 1942. I had to admit I thought all the tins of sardines were just for decoration. Well, they are very attractive, but no, they are also for eating. We tasted tuna in olive oil and it was very good. The lady who was giving the tasting loved her product and that made the visit very enjoyable. Clara’s other job is in advertising or maybe it was marketing… anyway, we had a very interesting conversation about packaging. Packaging helps us buy and support producers. I love Minerva’s packaging.
Since 1942
We also visited the Portuguese chocolate shop, Casa do Chocolate, where I had a caramel chocolate (yum!) and the Pastel de Nata bakery where I had another lovely nata… cannot get enough of the natas.
One is never enough
What do you get when you cross a chemist with a painter? Meia Dúzia! Here we tasted the food created by a chemist who was a painter in his spare time. His creation looks like paint. This tasting was the most fun and really appealed to me because I never feel creative when it’s time to make dinner but… ingredients that look like I’m about to play with paint? I can enjoy that! You are probably familiar with a crushed garlic product that you get in a plastic tube? Well this is much more interesting. There were over 30 different tubes of things like olive paste or chocolate orange or fig. We tasted most of them! There wasn’t one I didn’t like. And all made with Portuguese produce.
Paint? No! And it’s okay to play with your food!
Our last visit was to a tiny restaurant where we chatted about writing, poets in Portugal, history including the dictatorship that lasted for 50 years in Portugal and ended in 1974, when the dictator died, followed by a peaceful revolution. And while we chatted we ate threes different types of ham, three different types of bread and olive oil. And then it was all over. We were sad to say goodbye to Clara, she had made our visit to Porto so enjoyable and we won’t forget her… and we’ll definitely be looking up her brother.
Two types of bread, Bacalhau (cod fish cake) and olive oil. The brown bread tasted like fudge to me. Lots of villages in Portugal seems to have their own version of bread
Clara pointed us in the direction of São Bento and we rambled down the steep hill. We were tired and ready for bed but it was only 3.30pm and we had a train journey to take first.
Clara’s route to São Bento had the best view
At the station we saw a photo exhibition with photos from journalists taken in 1974 on the day of the peaceful revolution. One showed two soldiers with rifles and in the muzzle of each gun was a carnation. Clara had told us earlier that the people wanted democracy and the army were fed up fighting with their own so when someone put flowers in their guns, they didn’t stop them. Freedom Day is celebrated on the 25 of April each year.
Photograph in the station. Can you see the carnation?
The train driver got off the train again on the way home but this time we knew what to do – wait, soon you will be going in a different direction. We loved our tour with Clara in Porto. I know what to do in the markets and on the trains and I know flowers can be powerful.
As I was saying yesterday we were parked right beside the train station. We had our tickets and we were ready to go so we got up early-ish and got the 9:18am train. But not before taking some pictures of the old station. (beautiful blue tiles) Then off we went delighted with ourselves. Very soon we realized we were sitting on the wrong side of the train… every seat on the left side going towards Porto was full, we were sitting on the right side. That’s the side the sun was pouring in… we were soon roasted, but grand.
Can you see the sun shining in on us?
Within an hour we had arrived in Porto at a station called Campanhã and then the train driver got out – a bit disconcerting. We were supposed to be going to Saõ Bento. You know how it is, you’re watching everybody else wondering what they are going to do? Asking yourself, “is this really the last stop?” And then the train started up again and we were going backwards… into Porto.
Train lines around Porto… never know when you might need it!
We saw some beautiful views over the river including the bridges but I wasn’t able to take pictures because like I said, we were sitting on the wrong side of the train. But, it was spectacular. If you ever go to Porto get on one of the trains that go over the river, any of the trains and any of the bridges. Also there’s a walking bridge that has a metro line running on it too. Walk on that one too. I’ll see if I can find the name of the bridge and the metro line. (It’s the Don Luis I Bridge Metro Yellow or D line.) There are amazing views of Porto from that bridge.
São Bento train station
Now we were in the train station at Saõ Bento in Porto and we had until 12.30pm to wait for our tour. We had decided not to have breakfast or coffee, we wouldn’t eat anything until the tour because it’s a food tour, there will be food… oh I nearly forgot Saõ Bento station is impressive and it’s worth taking a moment to look at the blue tiles covering the walls of the big hall at the entrance. Lots of people are doing the same thing – just standing there taking pictures. Then we walk out of the station and see the most people we’ve seen in one place for years! Literally. The streets are jampacked… we look at each other and decide to change our minds about the no coffee and sit at the first free seat in a cafe across the road from the station.
Took this as soon as I sat down but it doesn’t properly depict the crowds…
Denis went in to order coffee and a nata while I kept myself busy watching dodgy looking characters. There would be no leaving my bag, nonchalantly on a chair here. To be honest I saw nothing out of the ordinary but my nervous system was indeed on full alert. Probably didn’t need the coffee then… hmmm.
Looking up was more calming…
After coffee, we headed off to Trinidad station (to meet our guide) just walking the streets of Porto is so nice and was very comfortable. Not every part of the center was as busy as the station and it was a beautiful day, not too hot in the shade with a nice breeze. We spent time in a book/stationery shop and I got a book of poems from the Portuguese poet, Fernando Pessoa and Denis bought a phone cover.
Yes I love some self analysis
It was time to meet our guide, Clara, she had sent me a WhatsApp earlier and we were to meet up outside a cafe near the Trindade train station. We were supposed be waiting outside the café but it was hot so we were waiting in the shade and we could see the cafe in the distance. It wasn’t long before I realised that she may also be waiting in the shade somewhere and we really better go stand outside the cafe… in the hot sun.
This beautiful building on route to Trindade is a seed shop
Almost immediately I saw someone who couldbe our guide, I went up to her and said, “are you Clara?” No it wasn’t Clara, the clues were, her lack of response and the fact that she was vaping. Fortunately, at that very moment, a friendly voice said, “hi, I’m Clara, are you waiting for a Clara?” Clara had a huge smile and shook hands confidently and I thought, yes, I picked the right tour. The power of first impressions.
Beautiful cafe/hotel… forgot to look at the name, sorry
Remember when we were in Vila Nova de Milifontes? And I got the the idea for some kind of tour that would help me navigate food markets. Well, there were hundreds of food related tours you can go on in Porto and there are thousands of reviews. A lot of information to wade through and choose. So I chose the one that felt right… having no idea if this tour would do the trick but trusting it would be grand.
Famous Majestic Cafe, there’s usually a queue
So here we are with Clara and she sets off at a quick pace with the two of us tagging along. You know how it is when you’re in a new place and every junction needs to be paused at just in case you’re going the wrong way? And more importantly you need to look both ways twice because you’ve forgotten again which way the traffic flows? Well, Clara always knew where she was going and was confidently walking across junctions. And I was happily trusting her with my life. (Yes, I did secretly look both ways, ready to grab her if she missed something speeding in her direction, did I mention my on full alert nervous system?)
Not the prettiest of views but… we can see Ruby from the train station!
On Wednesday the weather got even hotter and the pressure rose higher as we drove north towards Porto. We didn’t have a place to stay in Porto and there was a possibility we wouldn’t be able to visit this time which was disappointing because it is such a beautiful place. By the time we arrived in Aveiro neither of us were thinking straight, we had headaches and were tired. There are only six or seven spaces at the official motorhome parking in Aveiro, although later we realised there’s an overflow parking about a hundred meters away. At the time we weren’t sure what we would do if it was full.
Friendship Bridge
And it was full when we drove in. Now what? We drove around once looked longing at each full space and then noticed a motorhome at the far end was driving out… so we drove in feeling very happy. And then the rain came. Never before have we been as excited about rain and parking. The rain was glorious, the air pressure returned to normal, the heat broke and we got a parking space. On top of that, it was free. Best day ever!
Some of the art nouveau buildings in Aveiro
We only adventured out to the supermarket, less than 3 minutes walk way, for the rest of that day. Next morning we went to look at Averio. In the first century its then name translated as, “a gathering place or preserve of birds and of great salt”. Now it’s sometimes called, the Venice of Portugal. Averio is a university town with a young, international population and very vibrant. There are beautiful art nouveau buildings, some in great condition, some not so great. And there’s a canal.
Traditional Moliceiro boats
The reason it got the Venice name was because of the canal running through the city. Boats, not unlike Gondolas, previously used to transport seaweed now give tourist trips up and down the canal. We walked twenty minutes from our parking to the first bridge we came to which turned out to be the Laços de Amizade. This is the bridge of friendship where friends or lovers write a message on a ribbon (prettier than padlocks) and tie it to the bridge. We sat to have a coffee and watched people write messages and tie their ribbons to the bridge. There’s a booth beside the bridge were you can buy ribbons.
Queuing to travel the canal
It was late into this second day that we realised we were parked beside the train station where we could get a train to Porto! If we could only work out how to purchase tickets and where to go to get on the train we’d be off to Porto the next day. It turned out to be very easy. The ticket office person spoke great English and we bought our tickets to São Bento train staton, Porto, for Friday. Fifteen euros return, two adults on a one hour each way journey – a bargain.
Off to Porto by train
Aveiro had provided everything we needed, thank you Aveiro!
Well, we did the food tour in Porto and had a really great time! It’s been a long time since we were in a big city and you forget how exhausting it can be. Not just the walking, the talking, the stepping around people, the finding your way, the eating. Full-on days need quiet days. Will tell you all about Porto soon but first I need to tell you about the town of Batalha. We went there last Wednesday.
The Cathedral at Batalha
There’s a huge monastery and cathedral in Batalha built in the 14th century. It is one of the most important Gothic sites in Portugal and one of the most visited monuments. And that’s not a surprise, it is very impressive.
Cleaning has started on the magnificent door to the cathedral
On the way out (as we exited through the shop) a book title in the display caught my attention. Does that say, Murphy? Well of course, I had to check, is this Irish? From inside the cover I read, Murphy is an academic journal architectural history and theory published once a year in Portuguese and English by the Impress da Universidade de Coimbra. (Oldest University in Portugal.)
The Murphy book…
It went on to say the name comes from an Irish born architect, who was the first to promote Portuguese architecture to the rest of the world. James Cavanagh Murphy came to Portugal to study the architecture at Batalha and his drawings of the monastery were published in the 1700’s. Imagine that!
Every approach to the building is impressive
There was no more about James in the book but I searched the internet and… James Murphy was born in Blackrock, Co. Cork (well, of course he was) in 1760 and was a brick layer. He loved drawing and went to Dublin to study either drawing or architecture. He seemed to have a natural ability in drawing. He was involved in work on the House of Commons and the building near Trinity College Dublin that became a bank.
Can you see the cleaned section of “rope”?
When he was 28 he was commissioned by an Irish politician called William Burton Conyngham, to make drawings of the monastery here at Batalha. James Murphy seems to have travelled back and forth from Ireland to Spain and Portugal studying and drawing beautiful buildings for the rest of his life. What a lovely way of life.
The restorers are in the middle of cleaning/restoring the monuments at the moment. The cleaned stone looks great and really sparkles but I also love the grubby stone, it reminds me it has been here a long time and it’s not perfect.
Closeup grubby, background sparkling
On a different topic… Do you see the captions on my photos? My friend Yvonne has noticed that the captions are not being added to my photos in emails from WordPress. This makes me sad because I love reading captions on people’s photos. If you get this blog by email and you’re not seeing the photo captions I’m sorry 😞 I don’t know how to solve this problem… yet. But in the meantime you might want to try getting the emails from mail chimp by visiting the blog directly at… www.maireadhennessy.com and clicking the Sign me Up link there❤️
There’s a park beside the river Tagus with a canal for the ducks
We found a beautiful place to stay on Sunday night last. It was a big surprise to realise we had been here before. If you’ve been reading for years you may remember the last time we stayed the police came to tell us the river was running high and there was a possibility it would break its banks and we should move from our river view.
The ducks
We did move but I have often thought about that time… in hindsight we didn’t move far enough away. Of course nothing bad happened it didn’t burst it’s banks and we didn’t get submerged. But it’s one of the biggest rivers in Portugal, the Tagus! It flows into Lisbon! I bet it would be a big flood!
I wish you could smell this field. And we had the quietest night’s sleep
One of the best things about this parking space on Sunday, was that it was in the overflow field. Not overflow for the river but overflow parking when the regular parking spaces are filled. And the best thing about the field… it had been a corn field and now it was cut… and the smell was absolutely magnificent. It reminded me of childhood summers in permanent sunshine.
There was a bus on the next street that served food!
Isn’t it funny how my mind was still playing with the thought of what might have happened years ago in this place? Nothing happened. But if I had realised we were coming back here I might have said, no I don’t want to go there, the river might flood. And I’d have missed the smell of that field and a return journey to childhood.
Love this quote and the freedom from worry it promises…
And then on Monday we arrived in the very beautiful town of Louhans and it was a market day. What could be better? Old cobblestoned streets full of market stalls… hats, dresses, aprons, cheese and rabbits, among other things. Well yes, that’s even better.
Cute rabbits for pets… I hope
On Tuesday morning we went looking for coffee and with all the market stalls gone we found the arcades – there’s 157 of them! They are covered walkways along each side of the main shopping street and they allow you to walk shaded from the sun or sheltered from the rain. There’s a lot of road works, bridge works and rebuilding going on in the town but no matter its beauty is still visible.
Cobblestone and Arcades
The official motorhome parking spot is about five minutes from the shops and cafes, beside one of the two rivers running around the town. For €4 a night plus tax motorhomes have a river view surrounded by trees with walking access to cafes and restaurants – very lovely.
Picnic Perfect
There and then we invented the habit of going for coffee each morning. It’s such a simple thing, we sit outside in the fresh air sipping coffee and watching the French people getting on with their day.
On the way back to the river we’d collect our baguette from the Boulangaire and notice how lucky we were to be here. By Friday the waitress was asking, deux café allongé? (Two Americano’s?)
Cobblestones beside one of the old railway buildings
Yesterday we arrived in the town of Béjar, about 200km west of Madrid. We have never been here before and that’s always exciting. We had set off early, too early for breakfast so I cooked my favourite – porridge, while Denis went for a walk. We always use other people’s reviews to choose a park-up and the reviews for Béjar were very good. One of them mentioned the greenway, called the Camino Natural Béjar that runs alongside. It used to be a railway line which makes it flat and great for walking. But like all railways lines running through the mountains it has a tunnel. One reviewer suggested that although it was long it was well worth the effort to go through it to see the old town. Oh, not sure about that.
Can you see the tunnel?
We have been travelling for 13 days now and because we’ve started to slow down it feels like the perfect time to soak up the inspiration that comes from visiting these new, strange, unknown places. A train tunnel could be exactly the strange place I need, if… I wasn’t the most careful, risk-adverse person I know. Hmmm. Or maybe it’s just perfect? Anyways, by the time Denis came back I was actually looking forward to going through the tunnel. And he was able to report that it was grand, it was lighted and he had gone all the way through and back and was happy to go with me if I was concerned about going on my own. But I wasn’t, how hard could it be?
Well at least there are lights…
It was awful! You can’t see the end from the beginning, it’s very long. Oh (expletive, expletive, expletive) it was bad.
No, now that I’m writing about it I realise the tunnel was just a tunnel, it was not awful, it was just a tunnel. The thing that was awful was how I felt. I felt very awful. I am searching for better words to describe the feeling. I have a thesaurus on my computer but its not helping translate a feeling into a word. Very unpleasant isn’t bad enough but disgusting is completely wrong. I went about five steps into the tunnel and could go no further. I had to get out.
Don’t you just love rust?
What’s funny (not funny) is I didn’t understand the problem until I was standing about three feet inside the tunnel. Beforehand, in the van I had thought I would be worried about being attacked by another human. So I had a little talk with myself, “you’d be very, very unlucky to get attacked today, first day in a tunnel, first day in Béjar, you’ll be grand, you can do this.” Of course I know what you’re thinking – this could be untrue, but it was enough to convince me I’d be grand and probably not get attacked. So that when I got to the tunnel I was not afraid of being attacked. The fear of being attacked is my mind-fear, my mind-fear had been reassured, however foolishly. No, the big problem standing inside the tunnel was no longer my mind-fear, the problem was my body-fear, the fear that took over my body. There should be a big word for that. Terror? Yes. Terror is a good word.
Can you see the old town walls?
Generally speaking my mind-fear keeps me very safe. If my mind-fear rises I don’t reassure it enough to go towards the fearful thing… why would I? But here on this journey I make myself go towards the fearful thing because of Reverence on Deck 9. Do you remember? That’s where I made a decision to learn from everything, and that includes this tunnel. I promised to meet every difficult moment with self compassion and silence. So I turned around and left the tunnel. Were you expecting that? Do you think I should have kept going?
There’s the van from up on the town walls across the valley
And then something I had missed rushing towards the difficult thing was a signpost pointing up. And there it was, a steep but gloriously outdoor path to Béjar. I took the path most travelled. Yes, I was not a brave tunnel traveller but I was something else. I was compassionate to myself. This is what self compassion does – it accepts what is true for you now and it doesn’t attack your truth no matter how stupid or childish it seems. I’m going to the mouth of the tunnel again today (even writing that makes my stomach clench) but what’s different is Denis is coming too and I’ll take his help and maybe today is the day. And maybe it’s not…
Collage of building materials and a smiling statue
The town was scrumptious, by the way. Ok again, not the right word but I need a word that invokes consuming… but with the eyes. What is that word?
I love projects, I have about sixteen on the go at the moment. Yes they are exhausting and yes it is a little sad when I consider that I will never finish them but they were so exciting in the beginning. There was the great project for an art piece for my sister’s kitchen, his and her wedding masks, the garden and all its many projects, the website design project, the fiction book, the eat healthy project, the get up early project, the walk to the beach every day project, the make a stick trellis for the raspberries project… until yesterday I thought it was just me. I’ve been reading (listening to) the book Happy by Derren Brown. The subtitle is, Why more or less everything is absolutely fine. Very uplifting. Derrren is the illusionist, magician guy from the telly and he’s very interesting. Anyways, it’s a long book and I’ve been reading (listening to) it on and off for months and yesterday he had started talking about death… yes, I know, interesting. He was saying, among other things, that humans love projects. All humans. So it’s completely natural that I love projects. Funny thought, lately, I have been falling out of love with my projects.
Project Potatoes
I get very excited when I think of a new project, I fall in love with it and fantasise about us walking together along a sandy beach into the sunset. It’s all very romantic. But just at the moment when the project becomes real, the love disappears, the sand becomes stony and there’s a thunderstorm. This is at the precise point where I have to jump into the unknown. Maybe I have to learn something new or share something stupid or risk looking ridiculous or I just don’t know what to do next. By that point I have committed and have to stay with the new project until death do us part. Very often I can’t wait for death to do us part. Now I think the problem is I commit to the project before having a good look at what exactly is involved. I will be more careful in future.
Project Jigsaw
Like our blackbirds. I say OUR, they are in fact wild blackbirds but they do seem to be getting friendly. So, back when Eilish was still here, she and I researched home composting. Before I go any further let me be clear – the research was not in a scientific way… we searched on Youtube for a video about home composting. It was very interesting… and confusing. So in order to get started we stopped watching and summarised what we remembered (not a lot) from the fifteen videos we’d already watched and began home composting. This is a perfect example of a project.
Project Trellis
We already had a compost bin but it was stuffed to the top with rose bush pruning that was not turning into compost. First step, empty the bin. Then start adding vegetable peelings, paper towels, grass clippings and leaves. Keep the bin uncovered. This did mess with the structural integrity of the bin but I found a bungie chord to sort that. Finally, add water regularly. Only a week had passed when Eilish spotted the first member of our blackbird family popping in for a nibble. Yes, popping into the compost bin to root around in our leftovers! Well, we thought it might be the leftovers but there were bugs in there too so maybe that’s what they were after.
Project Blackbird Snack Bar
Last Friday I was sitting in the garden sending a text to my mother, telling her about the blackbirds when one jumped up on the compost bin. Since I had my phone in my hand I turned on the video and watched him getting started on his own project. He stood on the edge of the bin for a long time looking in, looking around, looking back in again. He walked around the edge of the bin and nearly toppled a few times but fortunately he had wings to help him balance. He washed himself, got interested in other birds and possibly me filming him. Then after a very, very long time, four minutes and ten seconds to be precise… he jumped in. He’s right to be careful, there are a lot of dangers around but the compost probably smells irresistibly good.
Project Walk to the Beach
From now on I’m not going to fall in love with the next irresistibly lovely smelling idea, I’m going to take my time looking into it and walking around it. I’ll tell myself I have plenty of projects, finish one of them first or better yet, finish them all.
Project Masks (Hello Roisín!)
Also, wouldn’t it be amazing to have a camera permanently mounted over the compost bin? We could watch the blackbirds when they are inside the bin and we could set up a live feed to a website and… NOoooooo! Danger danger, that’s a project luring me in, stay back! Have to go now, I think there’s a an old camera in the attic.
Travel stories 