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Archive for July, 2018

Not Very Funny

Brown Cows

Brown Cows

‘Ah yes, how now brown cow, how very droll. You don’t rely on telling jokes for a living, do you?
‘No, I thought not.
‘Sorry, it’s the heat you know. And our current diet doesn’t help, either.
‘No, we’re not on any specific diet, it’s just that there isn’t that much to eat left in this field.
‘No rain. The grass won’t grow without rain, will it?
‘Yes I know we’ve had a few showers – heavy mists, more like it – what we need is some good soaking rain. And a good few days of it, at that. Until then, we have to get by on the few mouthfuls of feed sprinkled in the trough here, occasionally.
‘I don’t remember it being this hot last year. It isn’t normally like this, is it?
‘Can’t something be done about it, then?
‘Well, you’re supposed to be in charge, can’t you go and switch the rain on? And, tell you what, I’d appreciate it if you could turn the heat down, while you’re at it.
‘Well, how about a couple of bales of hay, just to see us through? This dry food is hardly filling you know. We’d be very pleased if you could sort these few things out for us.
‘Thank you. Who knows, we might even laugh at your jokes next time.’

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Holiday Snaps

Thistles

Thistles

When we go on a holiday outing we invariably take a photo, or two, or perhaps even more. As a general rule, these fall into three categories.
First, easiest to identify and deal with are all those blurred smudges that could be Aunt and Uncle, or the people who were sitting behind us who we didn’t actually speak to because, well, they were a bit loud, weren’t they?
Second, there are the pictures that came out in focus. They do look a little posed, and that’s because they were. They also remind the photographer, at least, of the arguments and bargaining that ensued before vanities could be coddled and indignities soothed and the photo could be taken – and very nice it turned out, too.
Third, there are those informal shots taken when the subject was unaware they were the subject. These often remain secret and confidential, the guilty pleasure of the picture taker. They reveal the family in the raw. The way things really are. Not that we are ashamed of the disarray that is our family modus operandi, there’s boundless love in the little antagonisms and competitive rivalry that is the collective normality of our parents, children and siblings.
Today’s picture is a family photograph from this third group.

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Hairy Giant

Great Hairy Willowherb

Great Hairy Willowherb

This weeks picture is of a Great Hairy Willowherb. I know, he doesn’t look that scary at all, does he?

He’s standing down by the railway crossing; he’s found the ideal place. A clear view both up and down the line and reasonable view up the road as it climbs the hill on the one side, with a half decent view the other way – up to the T junction, and a considerable distance left and right as well.

He’s quite interested in trains and we spoke for a while of the little old diesel passenger trains that are the backbone of our links between the east and west coasts – and the amazing state of the art track laying combination that we’ve had trundling backwards and forwards for these past few months.

He’d noticed more of the big trucks hauling cement and gravel coming down the hill and over the crossing in recent months, and I was able to give him an update on the new houses being built down the other end of the village. He said he’d wondered if it was something like that. We parted on good terms and he asked me to give his regards to the Rose Bay Willowherbs next time I was round their way. Must remember to do that.

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The Crocalog

The Crocalog

The Crocalog

 

The Crocalog, a fearsome beast.
He lies in wait, he thinks, at least
He’s lying down – of that he’s sure
He’s just not sure what he waits for.

He might be waiting for a train,
A seaside visit in the rain.
A journey to a distant place
To see a game or watch a race

He wondered once – when all things came
To who waits – if they’d be the same
as he had now. Oh, what a bore.
Would they be worth waiting for?

He might wait to be asked to dance
He’s sure he would – given a chance
This, however,  we firmly state
The Crocalog, he lies in wait.

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