The Scotch mist kept sweeping across the sea and the hills in huge fuzzy waves, obscuring everything as it smothered the land with a swirling wet blanket of pale grey. Algy found himself a perch on a damp but comfortable rock, and looked around. The landscape as a whole had mostly vanished, but as he gazed at the damp mosses and lichens on his rock, and the tangled stems of last year’s bracken, he found that the colours began to glow, despite the general greyness of the mist. Higher up in the branches above his head, a robin started to sing in a beautiful, clear voice, and Algy smiled. It might still look like winter, but tomorrow was his birthday and that meant that spring, with all its flowers and songs, was just around the next corner!

Algy sends his fluffiest thanks to all his wonderful friends who have already sent birthday posts and greetings for his birthday celebrations tomorrow.

Algy invites you all to his 4th Tumblr birthday party on Algy’s own sideblog @lovefromalgy tomorrow (Sunday 13th March 2016) – there will be lots of fun, free Kindle books, ice cream, wonderful images from Algy’s friends, and all kinds of fluffy surprises! To join in the fun and celebrations, please use the lovefromalgy submission form or send Algy a link to a post on your own blog.

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Algy moved to a perch in the bushes by the shore of the loch, and gazed into the fading sunset. Although he was no longer spinning, the world still seemed to look a wee bit strange, but the effect was very pretty, so Algy just sat back and enjoyed the show 🙂

Algy decided to move onto the rocks for a spot of chilly sunbathing. The amazing colours of the water in the bay reminded him of a poem he used to love when he was just a wee chick, except that here the jewels were in the sea itself:

            Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
            Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
            With a cargo of diamonds,
            Emeralds, amythysts,
            Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.

[Algy is quoting the middle verse of the poem Cargoes by John Masefield.]