Yesterday hereabouts was – in old money – 90° of the Flaming’eckanoids and as humid as the inside of a racing camel’s socks. Far above my comfort levels. Moan moan moan, whinge whinge whinge. Yet still I heard people using the phrase “glorious weather”! Ugh!
Even this morning at 0500hrs was warmer than shirt-sleeve weather. I took a trip down to the old Neolithic water tap for the makings of coffee…
…and then went for a stroll-ette and a sit-upon, to watch the local wildlife, such as tis.
That is when the question imposed itself upon me. I was sat sitting on the bench in the company of the geese and two local swans (one relatively innocuous, one “Ms Nazty”), when I noticed that Mr Relatively-Innocuous was asleep, and yet gliding slowly around in circles – and on occasion leaving a trail of bubbles.
Do Electric Swans Dream of High-Fibre Curries?
Whether they do or do not, Ms Nazty was keeping her distance – and one eye on the chances of a pugilistic (self-defence in my case) encounter with me.
I have the ladies and gentlemen of the Goose Trust trained now so that I can walk past without their shouting ‘Awoogah! Awoogah!’ and leaping into the water or taking flight. We just hiss a little at one another.
This morning they were eating grass for breakfast, and were insinuating themselves a little more closely with every goose-step. I didn’t raise my camera because I didn’t want to jeopardise our arrangements.
One of the boats on the moorings has made some very pleasant arrangements for secondary transport (I am assuming that this is intentional, and not the aftermath of some horrid accident)…
It’s been a couple of years since I last saw this boat. It’s probably been up the Limpopo River inbetweentimes.
Tis p-p-p-p-persisting down with “the rain, Myfanwy, yes indeed” at the moment…
…but at least it is not quite as over-heated and yucky as was yesterday. I may break out the umbrella soon, and go for another strollette, since the rain tends to keep folk mostly on the plains of Spain, or indoors.
Early mornings is good, in summer. In winter of course I just get into my Blue Peter-recommended cardboard box, make myself a couple of air-holes in the sides, and hibernate.
Not long now.
Chin-chin, chaps and chapesses.
Ian H., Goose-Whisperer.