Tag Archives: day

Lively posts


The experiment ended in a demonstration of the finer points of sod’s law. Well wouldn’t it just.

After a full complement of transport, people, retail and noise, it was good to reach our backwater.  In the dusk, one pole was emitting strident chatter and tattle in many voices.  Yeats thought they were brawling, but to me it sounds more like a cheerfully acrimonious reunion.

Then something large flicked past the corner of my eye: perched, turning its back to me, shrugging its shoulders up, preening, some unidentifiable and disdainful raptor.

I looked at the other posts all down the road, but no more.


Water runs on


Three o’clock on a January afternoon was not necessarily the best time to visit.  I saw four ducks, though a number of small jobs twitted, whistled and chucked invisibly.  (Click thumbnail for gallery.)

Next stop Nodghams


Rumbling through the black back roads on an unfamiliar bus route: the night made strange.

Next stop Pump Lane.

Occasionally some bright windows or a pub sign or a poster of alpacas flickered by.

Next stop Dodpits.

For once technology was welcome, reading out the names of each increasingly remote location in the back of beyond.

Next stop Throstles.

A few strings of Christmas lights, in more or less questionable taste, appeared and disappeared randomly.

Next stop Sixpenny Corner.

The screen suddenly became dark; falling off the edge of reception?  This left me trying to guess the bus’s location by how steep the hill or how sharp the corner might be.

Pinging the bell; walking behind a circle of light to the silent house; supping on jaffa cakes; retiring with someone else’s book.

This morning another bus, mystery resolved in daylight, foam blowing backwards off the breakers.  Another quiet house, and as I revised kitchen cupboards a sort of recognition crept over me: the Mole and his sad little tin of sardines.  And Christmas was imminent then too.  Only for reasons nothing to do with me, my cupboard contains only seventeen tins of tuna.

No Ratty though.

After the rain


The rails were washed and punctual.  At the destination I paused for blue sky.  A perfectly conventional place, rendered strange by a continual stream of young people crossing it.

I rested the bag of books on a convenient spot

and reprieved the feet on a better class of pew.

The many many many shoppers were aimless, obstructive, as indeed we were ourselves, but the duck toastie worked.  Home in time to see a shred of young moon dip into the trees, though not in time to keep company with it.

A little more water


… while I had the chance.