Song thrush...

The song thrush is singing non-stop from a tree in Blacksmith Lane. I remember him from last spring, as I was moving into the Old Sunday School, and being impressed by his stamina. I’m glad I don’t have to proclaim my territorial rights for so many hours each day. I’d get nothing else done!

Licensed today: the old schoolhouse in Hawkshead, where the young William Wordsworth carved his name on one of the desks. Amazing to think that every pupil had an iPad back then...