The double white wingbars of the chaffinch provide one of the few bright spots on another damp, grey, drizzly day. The rain-streaked stone walls and tree trunks are dark dull mottled green, the colour of an old weather-beaten waxed-cotton Barbour jacket. Fishermen at their Sunday angling contest are lined up along the towpath as a row of green umbrellas fading off into the misty gloom.
again the canal-side hawthorns provide a foraging ground for small flocks
of blue tits. Following them along the lower stems there's a single treecreeper.
It follows some of the branches up until they arc outwards and I get the
impression it might be exploring these overhanging surfaces partly in
order to take a break from the continuing rain which hangs as a large
silver drop on every hawthorn berry.