A Christmas peal

I pass Imperial College every day on my way to the park. The bell tower is reflected in one of the modern buildings. It was saved from demolition in 1969 by the intervention of the Poet Laureate, Sir John Betjeman. It contains ten bells, an unusual number since the usual maximum is eight. For Christmas Eve the ringers are ringing a peal, that is 5040 changes, the number that can be achieved by ringing seven bells in every possible order without repetition. This takes about three hours, and hauling on the ropes to swing the heavy bells is a serious test of fitness. A full peal on eight bells, 40,320 changes, would take 24 hours, and this has been done occasionally by ringers working in relays. To do it on ten bells would take 3,628,800 and is absolutely impossible.

Coming in at Queen's Gate and heading for the Flower Walk, I'm usually intercepted before I even go in by a Robin ...

... and a Coal Tit coming out in a cotoneaster bush.

The Robin at the southwest corner of the bridge is another regular customer among mobs of Great Tits. There's a pair of Coal Tits here too, but they haven't yet plucked up the courage to come to my hand.

The pair in the yew in the Dell were chasing each other through the branches.

There's a pair of Blue Tits in the same tree.

The birds in the Rose Garden didn't appear in their usual bushes, perhaps because it was a very cold day, but one of the Coal Tits flew into the abelia bush ...

... and the male Chaffinch was waiting in a cercis.

The rest finally appeared in the lime hedge as I was about to go out through the gate.

There is usually a pair of Magpies in the variegated holly tree between the bridge and the Vista. They swoop down to take peanuts from the railings, but it's necessary to divert the Carrion Crows first by throwing several small peanuts on the ground which they have to pick up one by one. The crows, of course, are perfectly aware of this manoeuvre and try to grab the ones on the railings too.

The female Pied Wagtail was running up the edge at Fisherman's Keep.

There was just one Grey Heron on the nest at the west end of the island. It's a distinctive bird with darker eyes than herons usually have. Its mate has the usual flat-looking yellow stare.

The Cormorants which crowded on the the lake in the autumn have eaten almost all the fish and most of them have flown back to the river. There were seven on the Long Water, two of which were fishing under the Italian Garden.

Just three are left on the Serpentine, and here they are preening on the posts at the island. The one nearest the camera has two perfectly good legs but insisted on balancing on one, probably to keep its other foot warm on a cold day.

There seem to be only two Great Crested Grebes, both on the Serpentine: a male at Fisherman's Keep ...

... and a female at the island. They tend to leave in very cold weather in case the lake freezes. Like the Cormorants, they go to the upper reaches of the river.

The Black Swan is thoroughly spoilt by visitors, and it's hard not to pamper this handsome creature. As soon as he saw me he hurried over for a treat of sunflower hearts, which he is very fond of.

When I was coming back on the other side of the lake he spotted me again. Well, I have plenty of sunflower hearts.

The Egyptian Geese under the Henry Moore sculpture usually stay in the shadow even on cold days when a bit of sunshine might seem welcome.

A very happy Christmas to all readers. If I am spared I shall be trundling out tomorrow too,