On my way to a gig in Scarborough, I came across this delightful gift . 

Woodcock, dead

The knife isn’t the murder weapon, but instead a tool I used to remove the head from the rest of the body. Unfortunately, I haven’t quite got into the habit of carrying cutlery everywhere with me, like the gourmand I’m destined to become, so instead I had to “borrow” the knife from a local cafe. I have checked with my moral cleric though and apparently I’m in the karmic clear due to the fact I bought a plate of chips and didn’t go mad with the salt. I think I might clean it and post it back to them just to be on safe side. Don’t want the 5-0 on my tail again.

I had to stash my haul in a nearby bush until I could purloin the aforementioned cutlery but it was originally found laying in the middle of a very public path. My working theory is that it’s the work of a peregrine, with the “angel wings” remnants being their classic leavings. Not leavings, that implies poo. There are also a butt-load of peregrines in the area. A plague in fact. One stole my crisps. Another the spirit of Christmas.

Any who, this should keep the braying public (i.e. you) happy until I get round to writing up the recent trip to Derbyshire and Bedfordshire.

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