Bring Out Another Thousand

I am wondering if Blogsy can work its magic and upload a post when again I have a doubtful connection. Thanks for the comments on yesterday’s post. I replied to a few before the connection was lost. It’s a bit breezy this evening, so that may explain the intermittent signal.

But what a glorious evening. The morning was dull at first, then the sun broke through. I was out on the road, collecting my repaired boat cover, and parting with more cash than you would think necessary. Not for nothing do they say that boat stands for Bring Out Another Thousand.

By the time I got back, after a lunch with another boater who had accompanied me, at her house, the sun was doing its stuff and the day was hot. MasterB had found a cool spot on the floor and was stretched out full length. I did a bit more power washing but stopped when I realised a) MasterB was cowering in the bathroom, and b) the window seals on the port side of the rear cabin do not seal. There was an alarming flood right by the electrics. A bit of action with an old toothbrush around the window frames made me feel better, and MasterB resumed his stretched out position.

The trouble with boat cleaning is that you find all the bits that need attention. My list gets longer every visit. Not that that is spoiling my enjoyment. The moorhen and her chicks have quit the marina. Instead there is a pair of swans with their lone cygnet. The parents are proud and protective. Never have I seen a cygnet so closely chaperoned. It quite makes me fear for it when the time comes to leave home. In St James’ Park in London, the cygnets, ejected by their erstwhile adoring parents, hang around in an adolescent gang for the next year or so. There’s safety in numbers, and I imagine many lessons about getting on with their peers. What is this lone cygnet going to do? With whom will it learn from its mistakes? Continue reading

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Some Pictures From the East

Naturally while I was East I had my camera. In fact I had both cameras. I was hopeful that the Crested Grebes would have again built their nest on the port side of das Boot so I wanted my long lens.

They hadn’t.

However, a moorhen and her chicks moved about the reeds and betwenn the boats close by. For such shy birds, they are very vocal.

Moorhen and chicks

Moorhen and chicks

The fields were full of poppies.

Poppies

Poppies

The bees were busy.

Busy bees

Busy bees

The clover was beautiful.

Beautiful clover

Beautiful clover


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The Birds and the Bees

Yesterday morning I was over in Rotherhithe, walking through the old dock area, now home to a smart new library, a less new shopping centre, and lots of flats.

Some of the water has been kept, and the water fowl are well accommodated.

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Outside British Home Stores and Decathlon, one family was attracting a fair amount of attention.

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

No wonder. The parents seemed to take the human interest calmly.

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

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Let’s Hear It For The Bees

A change from pictures of MasterB in undignified poses tonight. These flowers and budding cherries are all in our garden and I took the photographs yesterday while hoping my boy would climb the tree.

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I love this time of year.

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I read the other day that the NFU has reapplied for a licence to use an insecticide that kills bees in the UK.

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That just doesn’t add up to me. Kill bees, you kill plants, you kill us.

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Why would anyone knowingly spray plants with poisons that will kill such a key creature in our survival?

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Of Mosquito Bites, Bee Stings, a Chained Dog, and Lots of Up

I thought I might upload some pictures, but it wasn’t to be. Today we walked up from a town where I drew some much needed cash from a hole in the wall.

Maybe I should make that we walked Up. I have plasters on my ankles from early morning mosquito bites in exactly the right places for my boots to rub.

We have nearly all been bitten. Jackie’s bites look like works of art. They started as small punctures, turned into pink, swollen patches and are now a patina of hues.

There has been a suggestion that we should have some sort of awards ceremony: most bites; biggest bite; smallest bite; bite in most embarrassing place.

Anyway, we went Up and in the foothills met a village where it seems many of the original habitants have sold up and gone. So a typical village in Greece has become a place of holiday homes and self catering for the mainly German visitors.

Lots of cats, and a dog with a death wish who chased cars. I was pleased to see happy dogs wearing collars. Later in the days we met a young, very underweight dog chained on the hillside. He was thrilled to see us. I gave him water and someone else had a biscuit for him. I wanted to take him home. He wants company and something to do. His future is something I find hard to contemplate. Continue reading