1. There is something in the fir tree outside our office window that is irresistable. A scruffy blue tit - or possibly a coal tit - and a great tit have been jiggling in the branches, gobbling up whatever it is. It might be an insect; or it might be an oil - when my parents' house was new, we used to get woken up in the morning by blue tits pecking at the putty round the windows.
2. Skirting the games field on the Common, I hear shouts of 'Come on, come on, you're doing it, you're doing it! Keep pedaling.' A man is teaching a little boy to ride a bicycle. The boy waggles the handlebars as he goes, trying to keep his balance.
3. Genre fiction. I am reading a big fat red book of American mystery stories. There are private eyes; puzzles; capers and tales of love and horror.