George the serial killer caught a Great Tit this afternoon. I pull up from an errand picking up him indoor's commissioned picture of our house (more later) and he's rescued the bird, so we get the sat nav to take us the 45 minutes drive to Mrs Tiggywinkles, apparently the world's largest wildlife hospital.
Said bird makes a recovery in the car, biting him indoors, and pooping on his trousers. We hand him over, and are told we can call back in 10 days to see how it is doing. Smashing place.
Stopped off to eat some lunch at the Bugle Horn pub down the road from Mrs Tiggywinkles, and was very impressed. I had very decent duck with watercress, orange and chargrilled potatoes, and him had fishermans' pie. Would recommend, but I bet it is a 'mare on Sunday lunchtimes.
Then, a man came in to tell us he'd reversed his Mercedes into my car. So much for karma... but at least he did let us know. So one light is smashed and paintwork damaged. Hmm.
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