FG decided to mow the field next to me at 05:30hrs yesterday morning. It took him the best part of two hours. Cunningly, I was – as is usual these days – already up and about. Let’s assume that FG knew this, as the slightest observation would attest such to be the case, and that he was happy to be disturbing no-one in his necessary farming endeavours.
I, on the other hand, was disturbing the ducks. If only these silly chaps had realised that they have no need to scoot and scatter if tis I tottering along. They might have finsihed the lie-in that they were obviously agreed upon.
The light yesterday morning was a curious beast, the sun was in evidence and yet there were clouds and a spot of mist.
The day quickly spoilt itself and became uber-hot and as merciless as the Emperor Ming.
Today’s forecast is for dullth and cooler temperatures for a day or three. I would guess that among the bovine masses trudging and cycling back and forth on the towpath I alone am happy to hear that.
Most of my species appears to be self-basting. Most of my species appears to be cerebrally outclassed by the butterflies and the mayflies in the cow-parsley. Most of my species appears to possess the charm of Sir Les Patterson.
Hope and pray, if prayer be your wont, that it never falls to me to offer the thumbs up or thumbs down of the Roman Emperor, in re the fate of the collective Human Animal.
No, finish us all off, Gladys. Um – gladiator – finish us all off please, gladiator.
Send word to bring back the real dinosaurs. They had charm, by comparison. They were fun, by comparison. They were civilised.
This swan has a redeeming quality (swans qua swans usually do not).
This swan has taken to bullying the unpleasant and bullying goose that is resident in the nearby marina. Doesn’t matter how big of a bastard you may think that you are, there’s always one bigger not too far away.
Tee hee. My my, how sad, never mind. [Giggles and wonders why everyone regards schadenfreude in the same light that they regard eugenics, as some sort of “bad” or “shameful” thing, when neither is either, when done properly and under my personal control.]
Ms Duck of Ducklings-The-Elder (just two left now from an original ten and a very recent three) presented herself and her offspring while I was sat sitting sittingly on my gunwale, watching FG mow, went to mow a meadow (one man but no dog). She listened to and understood my brief explanation that, having watched her offspring drowning two-day-old ducklings for no good reason, there would be no more sunflower seeds forthcoming from me from now until eternity.
As then requested, Ms Duck and Ducklings-The-Elder then sodded off.
If only my species were as suggestible.
If only my species were as digestible.
By the time FG had finished with his mowing, went to mow a meadow, one man, not two men, not three men, and no dog, went to mow a meadow, the light was rather harsh, and the flies beginning to rise. I retreated, as is my part, into the comforts of the Cardinal.
Thanks entirely to the efforts of the Canal Company executive and their “come and exercise on our wholly deserted towpath network” advertising campaign (I kid you not), tis closed up on landward side and to fore and to aft for me, blinds down on the sunny canal side. Extractor fans on – maximum. That too is my part, since I have no other way of avoiding Parry’s Exercising Babes.
There is a species of canal boater that is almost entirely nocturnal. They scoot along in the dark dead of night and moor in the unlikeliest of places.
Praise be to this pandemic where praise is due; I now know why so.
Navigation by the pale light of the Moon. Outdoors, while the species lies a-bed in its stained and torn winceyette nightgown, releasing the noxious vapours of the human arse, and trying to decide how far in the thumb must be in order to regulate the release of aforesaid vapours of the human arse.
Peace and love.
Hope all is well with you all, and that you are keeping on keeping on.
Be safe, don’t forget to change the water in the dog’s bowl, and do, please, keep a weather eye on the orientation of my thumb…
If I am not actively regulating personal colonic gases with it then it may be that the gods are asking me for my judgement on the species…