2009 — 31 May: Sunday
It's been warm, is warm, and looks likely to remain warm. Ho hum. Tonight's photo of Christa is from November 1985,1 when Big Bro was swinging by to pick up dear Mama from us (after we had, in turn, picked her up from the Midlands) and take her on down to NZ with him for a Christmas in the sun:
Christa, Peter and dear Mama in November 1985
A labour MP is reported to have claimed for a £5 church donation — good grief. Still, at least it wasn't approved... G'night.
More sunshine?
A little over four hours since I first woke. It's now 08:55 and the sun will, I suspect, flush out hordes of grockles on our walk today. Never mind; it's still (nominally) a free country. A minor change of plan has bypassed the need for a packed lunch. I predict a pint of something darkly refreshing in my noonish future. And a cuppa in my more immediate one.
It seems one bit of our secret service is to have a 100th birthday bash. (Personally, I suspect the really secret bits are a bit older, but how would we ever know? Perhaps when their expense claims emerge?) Anyway, the gentleman on the left here:
... in this 1907 photo taken in Southampton is apparently Commander Mansfield Cumming, destined to become the first boss of the spooks.
Later!
In fact, two pints of shandy and about 8.4 miles later on what — according to Mike's little weather station — has been the hottest day of the year so far, I'm now freshly showered, have a fresh cuppa at hand, and can (at 17:56) finish listening to an extraordinary bit of Haydn. A Spanish liturgical ceremony built around the seven last words on the cross — I wonder what on earth my seven last words would be? "Get me down off this cross, now!" perhaps? I gather BBC Radio 3 is having a bit of a Haydn blitz. And tonight, of course, I get a chance to see "Australia" with my new favourite osteo-archaeologist (or, if I hang on to Tuesday, I can watch it on the Hi-Def channel).
Our intended fellow-walker remembered a last-minute prior commitment, but it was too late to divert so we just did a gentle ramble around Farley Mount and Braishfield, lunching at the Newport. Spotted a couple of interesting birds, too. More or less as soon as we set off, my hawk-eye had spotted — rather far away — a bird of prey that was particularly adept at hovering:
After lunch, two of these chaps started flying around us and calling in a way that sounded both mournful and alarmed:
Did I mention the sky was blue?! Click the pic for a closer view:
I welcome opinions (no pun intended) as to what make and model they are.
Right! Time for a bite to eat, methinks. It's 18:30... That's better. So far, I've been offered kestrel and lapwing. Any advances?
It's 20:53 and the parade of Haydn is pretty relentless. Still, it's a useful backdrop. I've just fired off a note to my chum in Stockholm. Now, I think, I shall catch up with another video file on a USB stick. I'm not by any means a regular watcher of the awful "Woss" but Mike is slowly convincing me that at least he has some interesting guests on his Friday night show. Let's pop downstairs into the cooler clime of the living room and find out.