bathing pigeons

grubby street pigeons bathe in the oddest places. but do they look quite amusing when, feathers a-ruffled, they're ducking, shuffling, and squabbling for space in a muddy puddle. and then there's always the question of how do they stand washing in freezing cold water in midwinter (and lately: how dirty do pigeons get in order to feel clean after bathing in a puddle)?

mrs hope keeps a glass of water on the bedside table. not just a tumbler of water, but a pint of water. she normally asks me to fill it up just before i get into bed, so if she is thirsty during the night, she has a full pint to reach for.

about six weeks ago, she had some surgery on her ankle to repair an old sports injury. her immediate instructions for convalescence were for her to be confined to her bed, with her ankle elevated, and immobilised, at all times. these she kept to the letter, despite the increasing frustration of effectively being restricted to lying on her back 24 hours a day. combined with the pain in her ankle, she was unable to sleep deeply at night, and so dozed for snatches of ten minutes or so before she shifted fruitlessly for a more comfortable position.

on one night, about 2.30am, she happened to wake thirsty. reaching for the glass of water by her bed, she slaked her thirst and sank back in a doze. she re-woke with start, remembering she had not yet replaced the glass on the bedside table, and poured half a pint of freezing cold water over me, previously deeply asleep and cosy in the bed next to her.

i did my best to be gracious, considering the circumstances, but i imagine i looked quite like a bathing pigeon.