12th April 2007

It’s been drier and warmer than the Costa Brava over the last few days here in England. Shame I have to be working but at least I can enjoy the dinnertime around the small reservoirs at work. They are home to various waterfowl and a kingfisher also makes intermittent appearances. They are the nearest things to a hummingbird we have here. You can’t imagine the thrill of the rapid flash of electric blue as it flies by. Like a huge whirring butterfly. It is so hard to see them properly, but nice to know they are around…they are a good sign of the health of the waterways.

I managed to sell my speakers but the whole thing has got complicated and likely the sale will fall through. Seems to be a case of proxy bidding by someone in Germany. Looks like I will have to relist them. Oh well I shall read the Janet Street-Porter column in the Independent newspaper for a while. She always cheers me up. She’s stimulating like Germaine Greer but better looking. Click on the link and see if you agree. She’s an ardent walker too.

http://comment.independent.co.uk/columnists_m_z/janet_street_porter/

Another refreshing columnist is Tracey Emin…woman of questionable artistry but wonderful to have around for dinner I guess. Couldn’t see her doing the cooking.

http://comment.independent.co.uk/columnists_a_l/tracey_emin/article2437606.ece

In fact the whole Independent web site is great…have a look around. Sometimes a bit hypocritical but most of the media is by having a moral stance and yet maintaining their incestuous relationship with the advertisers. In fact sitting on the bench in the garden reading and listening to the woodpecker tapping away at the Sycamore has done me the world of good. It’s a Great Spotted Woodpecker by the way. Click on the link

http://www.naturegrid.org.uk/biodiversity/birds/woodpeck.htm#great

So summer glimpses through spring days scattering sunlight through arching branches tracing the open sky and clothed in vestigial buds that feel the sun and call for syrup delved deep below the earth. It is the elixir of sweet winter rain caught and held within the trees chambered, wooden cisterns infused with the last summer’s essence stored for this moment. The sap rises and rushes to the end of every twig and the sylvan ships of state unfurl green sails to set before the fair winds of rebirth.