Early morning after two days of rain and just the birds for company
Category: Nature
Boat Trip
I have been busy these last few weeks putting the boat in good order, a few changes but mostly heavy maintenance items. Our bottoms are newly cleaned and painted so we are ready for the off.
Planning to do what I call “The Northern Loop”.
The clearing
A dull, wet day today. This is looking south down the road through the woods – about half a kilometer to the lane. The majestic magnolia is now almost in leaf and the rhododendra and lilac are showing nicely, with the buddleia struggling so far. Please note remains of mole hills and the mysterious stone semi-circle to left. Continue reading “The clearing”
I told you I was ill
Three Ds plus one
What is it they say? Death, divorce and dimissal cause most stress and turmoil? Well, just add Disruption by Removal!
When we arrived on 6th May, all but our beds and a few essentials went into the barn – fifty boxes included! And since then we have slowly reclaimed the house room-by-room from the crew who have been re-laying floors, refitting the bathroom and installing new bits of pumbing and wiring for the kitchen appliances. It was all supposed to be done before we arrived but the best laid plans of mice and men…. The main thing is we’re more than happy with the result – a spacious, comfortable farmhouse away from the madding crowd.
And tomorrow we’re promised the arrival of this little puppy:
May – Fantasticks
You May (Huh?) have been wondering where Nicholas Breton’s portrait is, since it’s now the second of the month.
Nicholas Breton expected dripping clouds in May
Well, here it is, copied from his Fantasticks, published in 1626 and now out of print.
May
It is now May, and the sweetnesse of the Aire refresheth every spirit: the sunny beames bring forth faire Blossomes, and the dripping Clouds water Floraes great garden: the male Deere puts out the velvet head, and the pagged Doe is neere her fawning: The Sparhawke now is drawne out of the mew, and the Fowler makes ready his whistle for the Quaile: the Larke sets the morning watch, and the evening the Nightingale: the Barges like Bowers keep the streames of the sweet Rivers, and the Mackrell with the Shad are taken prisoners in the Sea: the tall young Oke is cut downe for the Maypole: the Sithe and the Sickle are the Mowers furniture, and Fayre weather make the Labourer merry: the Physitian now prescribes the cold Whey, and the Apothecary gathers the dew for a medecine: Butter & Sage make the wholsome breakfast, but fresh cheese and creame are meat for a dainty mouth: and the Strawbery and the Pescod want no price in the market: the Chicken and the Ducke are fatned for the market, and many a Goslin never lives to be Goose. It is the moneth wherein Nature hath her full of mirth, and the Senses are filled with delights. I conclude, It is from the Heavens a Grace, & to the Earth a Gladnesse.
Farewell.
A few learned observations:
Pagged means pregnant.
Sparhwake is sparrow-hawk.
Sithe is a scythe.
Nor was it usual in his time to use apostrophes with nouns in the genitive. (kindly remember you heard that here first)
Both Shad and Strawberry seasons are in full swing here, (Asparagus too), no sign of fresh peas yet.
Lambasted?
I thought I’d reassure the cherished non-Cambrians hereabouts that the wild and woolly practices of mountain-dwellers are frowned on by the Courts and it’s best not even to mention them!
Keen on riding
As my cherished reader will recall, I once had the affrontery misfortune honour of lunching in the company of One’s sister Margaret at the Ritz, cos my then-employers in the ’70s sponsored one of ‘her’ charities. And a very nice lunch it was too. Except that she hardly touched it, but nipped out at every conceivable opportunity. So I was not surprised this morning to read that: “Princess Margaret prefers meals to be as simple as possible and not to last too long. Three or four courses (including cheese or fruit) for lunch, and five for dinner are quite sufficient….,” according an honourable flunky. I presume her sallies to the powder room were to satisfy the craving for nicotine, although she might possibly have been meeting her young stud, Welsh Roddy, who was occupying much of her time in between meals. Did he lurk in the loos, I wonder?
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-22303871
PS Roddy’s dad, Sir Harry, was an Olympic show-jumper
Cry ‘God for Harry, England and St George’!
And raise a glass for William Shakespeare too, despite the misery he has inflicted on school-children for centuries. For today is our National Day. The Harry I refer to is of course Mr Rednapp, the architect of Spurs’ excellent season and now the undertaker for QPR. Because that’s what being English is all about. Highs and lows. Effortless superiority, born of experience unequalled among other tribes of man. They come and go, but like old Father Thames, the English go on for ever. Cheers!
Pull the other one
If you want an exercise in suspending belief, try this: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-22152700
Allegedly the ultra-orthodox Jews, despite thousands of years of practice, are still unable to find out how to procreate and need a book to help them. “We wanted to give people a sense of not only where to put their sexual organs, but where to put their arms and legs,” the author says. “If you have never seen a movie, never read a book, how are you supposed to know what you do?” Well, sir, as a former schoolboy in the late ’40s and ’50s, I can’t remember my contemporaries ever being uncertain about the positions employed, despite a total lack of access to films or books on the subject. You put the right one in, the right one out, the right one in and you shake it all about. You do the okey kokey and you turn around. That’s what it’s all about. Remember, son?
Go forth and multiply, I say.
Boadicea's Chariot 
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