An Alder Fly on my Schnoz and Soothing Chooks

Good evening, and welcome to day ninety-five in the big brother house.



Our trout fishing season was due to start today, which lends a melancholy mood to the day. It is clear to even the most addled of eyes that the river has wintered well and is in prime condition (further films attached to demonstrate this fact)

A few olives have hatched during the fine weather, we have even seen a few sedge, and while sat on the bench outside the fishing hut shooting the breeze with imaginary anglers an alder fly landed on my schnoz.

It’s an odd state of affairs, and last week I was about to punch a silly old fool in Sainsburys who was not adhering to the self distancing advice and was clearly after some form of intimacy, before the penny dropped that I would need to wash my hands tout de suite and there was no sink to hand.

Although with the dearth of sport, old men fighting in the aisles of supermarkets could draw quite a crowd, with potential sponsorship deals.



Easter Sunday, and with a nod to the resurrection, we got our garden chairs and tables out of the garage and put the parasol up. The temperature hit twenty seven and a bit degrees in the shade of our garden over the weekend, which provided some succour for a cancelled trip to Porto, where it rained for most of the time we were due to visit (further succour)

There are reports of swallows, swifts and martins arriving in the principality of Ludgershall, but none have pitched up here yet.

The fridge just clicked on.

Currently a particular highlight of the day,

just the boiler kicking in to look forward to now and then it will be time for bed.

although I do appreciate how lucky I am to be able to live and work where I do and continue to be able to live a more normal life than many other people.

Spent most of the bank holiday looking for four figures worth of hearing aid in a stand of bamboo. I’d been cutting canes for runner beans in hot weather and in the hot sweaty conditions in my aural orifice, the trumpet jumped ship at some point.

Restored to my resting state of tinnitus and fug, I appreciate how much the thing was doing for me.

Ok I’ve paid less for motor cars, but it served a purpose.

If anybody finds a solid gold earpiece fashioned for my lugs, there is a reward of ten sides of smoked trout and a virtual handshake from a distance of two metres or more.

I'll close with a clip of our chooks dusting, which I find very soothing.

They dust in the gateway, and are photographed many times throughout the day. They've been deprived of dusting opportunities during the damp winter, although the wood shed has always provided a year round dusting opportunity of sorts.

With reduced traffic, and an increased footfall of pedestrians, they are reluctant to give up their station on the edge of the lane and may well have their own social media accounts,

They are currently quite the draw.