Attenborough in snow
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Caitlin today. Perhaps I should say this more often but when I refer to America in the context of posts like this – which is to say, in any political context – I mean its machinery of deep state government … Read More »
Attenborough on the last day of 2020 … A happy new year to one and all …
The character of Clara Dawes; she of one of the dozen novels, all read before I turned sixteen, which most moved me in boyhood, is nut-shelled on this A-level primer site: Clara is wife to Baxter Dawes, whom she could … Read More »
Through the pines. Over the dunes. And onto the beach, the light in constant flux … … an Atlantic north-westerly ripping in relentless. “I’m going out”, said J, pushing through piles of sand outside our bedouin tent. “I may be … Read More »
I spoke in Afloat in the Fens of a brace of pike spotted in a small mere, amid an otherwise banal housing estate on the edge of Thrapston and fed by the Nene. Here they are. Close by, another ambush … Read More »
Thursday. As yesterday I’m at Houghton Mill, now going downstream to St Ives by canoe. Half a mile in, the heat is drowsing. I lie back in the canoe but, camera in lap, tell myself neither heron nor snake shall … Read More »
Note to self: when sleeping overnight in car on industrial estate, avoid tight spaces behind lorry trailers. On Tuesday night I disregarded this elementary advice. Having left the Kings Arms shortly after posting Afloat in the Fens, Google Maps took … Read More »
It’s a scorching afternoon, still and sultry. A minute after putting in at Islip, I disturb a grey heron. It flaps a gawky take off across the river twenty metres ahead. Ten minutes after that I hear a tiny plash … Read More »
Needing spiritual refreshment after two months making repairs to my house in Sheffield (I let it out, and hand over the rent collected to my own landlord) and a recent flurry of posts on Julian Assange, I took the junior … Read More »