Saturday 06 February
This morning, in fact the whole day, has drifted by satisfyingly swift. There’s always an expectation that the day needs to be filled with stuff being done. Not today. I pottered to start.
Insignificant jobs were accomplished today. Like swapping bird feeders. Taking Stan to meet his girlfriend for his weekend walk. I had a craving for a sausage sandwich, so popped in to the Coop on my way back. We took Mabel for a walk, just around the local fields, and returned as the rain started to sprinkle down. I watched a bit of footy on the telly and made up a fire, which we enjoyed lounging in front of watching telly.
It sounds pretty mundane, and that’s exactly what it was. A whole day of mundane, and we will likely do it all again tomorrow.
This past week, Lisa has been watching The Detectorists. Ive been joing her for the odd episode here and there. Then this evening back-to-back episodes that took us to the end of the third and final series.
It was timely for me to rewatch them. They’re genius, every one fills my cup and makes me pine for the long summer days. T-Shirt sleeves, a pint at the pub, walking on dry ground, flanked by tall grass fizzing with insects. Birds at their busiest and time to stop and savour what we have right under our noses. Or walking alongside us.
It’s no accident that it was filmed in the beautiful Suffolk countryside, with references to Colchester and Maldon.
As I write this, before sleep, the region is braced for snow overnight and throughout tomorrow. We have a habit of completely over-playing what is likely to be a couple of centimetres (at best). The anticipation rarely matches the reality. But rather than be critical of how, as a nation, we obssess and panic about the weather, I have come to love it. Our quirky ways. And our even quirkier regional characteristics. I feel more and more East Anglian every day – and this blog has made me realise it.
The Bald Birder 