Five o'clock wake-up call -- at dawn this morning, it was Robins v Grackles in the driveway. What a racket.

The first lawn-mower kicked in at 0630. Today is Sunday. (Not that Sunday is any different from all the other Groundhog Days.)

Stratford is a very house-proud town, and lockdown made us particularly fussy about our gardens. Any time when it's not raining, somebody in the neighbourhood is firing up the mower, the weed-whacker or the hedge-trimmer.

About five o'clock this afternoon, when all the dogs are being walked and I'm on my porch with a beer, the Harley fan will embark on his daily promenade, all dressed up in studded leather so everybody can see just how cool he is. I don't think I've ever seen that bike go faster than about 40 kph.

On the whole, I think I prefer even the grackles.