Monthly Archives: April 2010

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A SALUTATION OF TREES

As afternoon gives way to evening
mist and cloud draw aside to show
enough blue sky for a salutation of trees.

And the birds sing.

–John Bailey, April 2010
Cilfrew, Wales

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The new Doctor Who series is beginning to find its feet and is no longer completely rubbish.  This evening’s episode was almost scary in parts.  Not hide behind the sofa scary but enough to make me go ‘oh’ now and then.  It’ll take me a while yet to adjust to the new Doctor, though.  Rather too wet behind the ears for me, I’m afraid.

But I’ll keep watching.  I’ve been a fan since the very first broadcast, and I’m not about to stop now just because the current Doctor needs a good slapping.

It’s not been the most interesting of days, though, and I’ve very little in my head to show for it.

Graham caught me poking morosely through the heaps of rubbish in the garage, looking for my painting easel.

“I can’t stop just now, but I’ll find it for you.”

“I know that.  No rush.  What you’re doing is far more important.”

He was mowing the front grass as flat as it can go, you see, in readiness for another application of weed killer.

And how interesting is that?

“We should go shopping today,” I said.  “But I wondered if you’d rather go for a little trip to the seaside instead.”

“Okay.”

So we went to Porthcawl, strolled along the prom, had lunch, strolled along the prom, and finished with large cornets of Sidoli ‘home made ice cream.’

Graham took one of his cruel photos of me:

Happy in my skin

“Gosh!” he said, peering at the back of his camera.  “This really does make you look fat.”

“Don’t care.  I am fat.  There’s no hiding it, and I’m happy in my skin.”

“Just as well.  There’s an awful lot of it.”

Overheard in Heathrow, from a posh lady who’d just been told that all flights were grounded indefinitely:  “Does that apply to business class as well?”

How droll is that?

When they called the election, seems an age ago already, Graham asked if I’d remembered to register us to vote.

“Yes.  I did it online.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.  You can call the Electoral Registration people if you doubt me.”

“No, if you’re that sure, I believe you.”

So I uncrossed my fingers and started to worry.  Well you do, don’t you?

Anyway, this morning the little white cards turned up telling us where and when to vote, so I must have done the online thing right.

And I can stop worrying about it.

Then, off to the outer limits of Swansea to get the bits Graham needs to restore the hardwood staircase we found under the last of the scabby old green carpet.  I am completely dependant upon his navigational skills when we do this kind of thing.  Most of Swansea looks much the same to me and I can get lost even if I drive in a straight line.

Otherwise, the only event that broke into my daze was the resumption of airline flights in the UK.  My lovely blue skies are ripped apart once more, with ugly condensation trails pencilled across the heavens, to widen and corrupt the entire firmament.

I tell ya, if any political party offered a complete ban on commercial flight over the UK they’d get my vote.  If I thought there was  the faintest chance of them delivering on their promises.

Politicians delivering on their promises?  Yeah.  When pigs fly.  Which would be an improvement.