Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Wars and Rumours of Wars.
The farmer and I have just sat out on the bench in the garden in beautiful sunlight with our morning coffee and a stroopwaffel each (given to us by Dutch friends and jolly good). We were looking at the crystal drops of dew on the grass and the fine gossamer threads woven between all the plants and blades of grass. We were listening to the robin sing his song, which sounds so joyful but really means 'keep off my patch'. Then the sun went behind a cloud (one lonely one in an otherwise clear sky Gwilym if you are reading this) and suddenly the chill of Autumn was in the air. As we thought about standing up we saw that the tiny spiders had woven us into their gossamer - our shoes were attached to the grass and our sleeves to the garden bench. It seemed almost a shame to break the magic. A couple of weeks ago we had terrible flooding all over North Yorkshire, with homes flooded and blocks of flats almost washed away. Our village had many houses flooded and the lane where Dominic lives (made out of words on my side bar if you want to see pictures of the lane)almost washed away. Things still hang in the air regarding the mending of the lane and who should foot the bill. But what has amused me is that in the fortnight since it happened I have heard so many versions of a solution. 'The lane has been completely washed away (it hasn't); a) said this and b) said that; I heard one story from a friend, who heard it from the cleaner we share; I heard another version from my chiropodist; and to cap it all, I heard another version this morning from the man I visit on the check out at my supermarket. I don't live in the village but live about a mile out of it so am on the periphery of all happenings but I really begin to think that it is a case of 'send reinforcements we are going to advance' morphing into 'send three and fourpence, we are going to a dance'. As everyone uses the lane who lives on it, I would have thought that the obvious solution would be for everyone to chip in and share the cost of repairs - but maybe that is too simple. All I can say with certainty is that at present I am sitting here and doing nothing. Cowardly it may be - but I would like the dust to settle (or mud in this case), at which point the voice of reason might emerge. Meanwhile, the weather is at its most glorious for early Autumn. There is a hint of the colour to come in the trees, there is a scent of dying foliage, the robins are singing, the sky is clear blue and the sun is warm. The only fly in the ointment is that dear little Tess, my Border Terrier, in her eagerness to go out for a walk yesterday lunchtime, was flying up and down, skidded to a halt and banged her face on the step. She is a sorry sight. I have managed to persuade her to eat a little food by moistening it with warm water and then feeding it off my hand. But she is a sad little dog. We can't find any injury so assume she is just sore. If you are in the UK enjoy the sunshine while it lasts - apparently it is only temporary.