pigeons

No, we didn't have pigeon for Christmas dinner (a very fine Norfolk Bronze designer turkey, for anyone interested, and worth every last penny) - but these were fluttering around outside eating breadcrusts that I'd jettisoned from making some stuffing (the apricot-pinenut- parsley-chile pepper-garlic side, not the chestnut and italian sausage one). I tried documenting a fair portion of the day, but nothing is quite beautiful or quite satiric enough, barring, perhaps, a few action shots of Simba chasing a new toy, or is somehow too private (elderly parents - one of the things that I want to write about towards the end of this year's enterprise is the self-imposed censorship, sometimes deliberated in advance, but sometimes quite unexpected, that can take over). These pictures somehow belonged to last semester, though - to the scene of capturing a pigeon in The Lonely Londoners - although, to be honest, these birds, though definitely London avian residents, have much more of the wood pigeon, edible look to them than do central London's flying feathered rats.