The same thought was going through our heads, but neither wanted to give it the oxygen of life. I blinked first, 'Ikea Saturday', blurted out with immediate regret. 'Ok'. Came an equally fearful response.
Operational plans were made; clinical and sensible. If I wrote them out in full this page would be covered in MI5 black marks. I am allowed to mention a few key phrases to paint the picture - 'sparrowfart', 'darkside of the Hamble', 'disgusting coffee' and an agent called 'Billy Case'. We can never return. Bridges burnt. Enough said and all that.
In my mind, Spring is fully underway and I'm skipping gayly through the woods. In reality, it is snowing outside and I'm seated shivering behind my desk. I prefer the scenario being played in my head, and thoughts lend themselves to all the changing detail in the countryside at this time of year.
A favourite is the arrival of redstarts in the New Forest. A quivering orange tail, a flash of brilliant white forehead a snatch of distinctive song, all point to their return from their African wintering grounds. Quite often my first view is of males. Finding them in holly, perched on the shadowy branches exposed by pony or deer browsing. Soon they sing from the highest branch of the highest tree and the bustle of summer's rhythm commences.
I would like to share a painting made this very morning, but for now I'm bound by work and colds, to painting birdy activities (!) from the window. So one from last year will have to surfice for now. (Apparently not as it happens, the upload won't work.
For Mike W. Who has been missing my blogs of late.
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