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Sunday, 30 July 2017

Choppy water and lashing rain.

Choppy water and lashing rain. That's no reason to stay at home.The contrasts of an English summer and it's all good.

So, the quay is hidden away. Only the locals use it.

Three men sit on a breakwater each with a length of string. On one end of which is a small bag made of  a scrap of net curtain. They whirl the string for momentum and sling the bag into the bouncing waves. There will be a bit of bacon in the bag, for they are catching crabs.

Choppy water and lashing rain.

Out come the wide necked flasks, spoons ,knives and plates. The box of cold butter pats sits atop the dash. I have made homemade chicken soup and some crusty soda bread. It is good. We savour and slurp. The weather makes it all the more warming.

The rain blows away, rolls round the sky and settles across the water for a little while.
I jump onto the shingle and wander along the tide line. A bright clear  blob gleams in this light. It  is marked as if fronds of fern sit inside. Its a jellyfish! I call the saxophonist who sardonically speculates on how long it can last. We both agree that it is beautiful
I wash the spoons in the tide and we run to the car as the wind blows the wet back.

The landscape is all green, deep green and flashes of distant water.
We drive down a road where the trees meet each other overhead. High and sculpted its a tree cathedral.
 Suddenly there's a shout.Some one is very angry with us. Up whirrs the shouter. A furious woodpecker. He rises like a clockwork toy.Up and up in a dead straight line.Shrieking and swearing as he goes.
The soup and soda bread has made me drowsy.  So the saxophonist drives, I dream and the world is washed clean by the returning rain.

Fierce birds.

So , Angela was desilting the laptop.Taking off all the superseded and redundant sites,links etc.

Next thing to go was her blog. Being unusually sentimental (for her ) she clicked on it one last time before deleting it.

And there sat a fierce bird on the fence.
 Quizzically head on one side she made me think about the blog. I'd walked away from it having seen too many blogs for the mutually sycophantic or on closer examination penned by people who were at best delusional.
My way in life has always been to be prudent about the use of the door so I had slipped away.Walked out of the door.

The fierce bird has a beady eye and conversation with her away from the blog cleared my vision too.

So I am back.
Not for approval or to seek attention particularly.Instead I will write because I want to and because I can.

I shall hope my sister in New York will approve.
After all she reminded me ,fiesty is good but mostly coming in under the wire is good too.
She looks like an Egyptian princess.Black skin and regal presence.
I am a blue eyed ,blond ,fair skinned and know there is nothing remotely regal about my being five foot two and three quarters.
But if I know anything I know we are sisters in the truest sense. Where humbug and hypocrisy are concerned we are both fierce birds.

Don't however,expect me to change the angle at which I hang my hat. I expect I shall write on vaguely the same themes I always did but I am back and doing because of a timely encounter with someone I did not expect to meet and who I rather admire.