on a Friday morning. Is that a front? Or a back? Or the back of the front, who knows? But a lovely gentle and wistful start, even the contrails are joining in and being artistic in linking the fluffy patches.
Contrails going to Lanzarote, Alicante, Gibraltar, Faro, and Stansted. Holiday dreams of screaming, over-excited kids, good old British bum-cracks lording it whilst swaggering or staggering down Main Street as the locals cower away. “It’s my right, mate, my ‘oliday, I’ve worked ‘ard at ‘ome payin’ for this…”. Ya see that’s where Boris ‘as got it wrong, innit? Stands to reason don’t it?
Dream on my lovelies, our dream is right here without the mucus laden lateral flow that drinking on that beach involves.
The cockchafer or the ‘doodlebug’, a nickname later given to the V-1 flying bomb of WWII…
The time is late afternoon, the date is early May, after some heavy rain and…
Our wild flower meadow and orchard is a riot of colour and activity from the…
and the Turkey is already fat! But rather incongruously she is in the garden! Not…
One swallow does make a late Spring. Today, 25th April, bang on target, they have…
It’s ready. It was a deadline to not miss. The cleaners have been in, the…