Looking out of my window I see a small front garden, framed by laurel bushes and a couple of small trees, the border is dominated by a large fuschia plant which travelled with me from my office in Manchester twenty four years ago and has accompanied me to four other homes before finally being planted out here. I see a bird-feeding station busy with tits, finches and just now, a cheeky robin; hey like the fruit and fat feed. Beyond the garden are many mature trees, two of which have rookeries. Seagulls are squawking from a neighbour's roof opposite and through the garden gate I see the lane leading to the river and the hills beyond. It's a beautiful sunny day.