Easter Sunday and a time to go to church and celebrate the death and resurrection then death again of our lord's son, Jesus Christ Holy Mary. Eat the bread, which represents Christ's body, drink the wine, which represents Christ's blood and sing holy hymns which reverberate up the spire of the church and send it up closer to God for him to hear. Relegion? Fuck me.
To FULLY understand EXACTLY what Jesus went through to save us, I decided to wear a crown of thorns for the weekend. And do you know what? It didn't really hurt that much. Unless you pressed it right down onto your head.
This post is going nowhere...
I've looked into the shipping lanes over the north Atlantic in hope that I was going to find something deep and meaningful about bird vagrancy. I failed. There's fucking milions of vessels cross every year (obviously) and they haven't changed the main shipping lanes for ages, nor will they due to geography, fuel prices and Right Whales. I tell a lie, they actually have changed the shipping lanes for Right Whale protection but only by a few miles and it has proved successful! Hurrah! As for proving that most (if not all) transatlantic vagrants were/are ship assisted then I am no nearer. No paper in British Birds yet then.
I will though.
Actually, I don't even write ANYTHING remotely educational about birds do I? It's not that I don't know anything though, it's just that I prefer cock jokes and swearing any day!
It was my mate's funeral this week. He was always a practical joker, and fair play, he made us laugh right to the very end. The stupid fucker even had the coffin rigged up somehow so that when it was being lowered into the ground, a tape of him saying, "Ha! Fooled you... I'm alive!" started playing. It was followed by things like, "Lads... Really. I'm not dead, let me out!" Then there was knocking coming from the coffin, fuck knows how he did it!.
We were all in stitches. Even the Vicar was pissing himself.
RIP Dave... Fucking legend.
Putative Steppe Whimbrel in Austria
14 hours ago