I am a bit tired, because Henry the finch died this morning after a night of sad scrabbling. We're burying him in a Coer de Lion camenbert box with the millet I bought him yesterday so he could have some for breakfast (he had a bite). He was the smallest bird in the house, but with the biggest beak, and he was in a pityful way when I bought him last year, but he'd perked up a lot inbetween and spent most of his time here all-singing, all-dancing and lording it over the feeder. I was very fond of him.
All I have to do today is re-letter some speech bubbles, and then I can go off to town, bay some paper and see a show.