I refuse to be downhearted today. When all the news is of killing and strife - about which I can do absolutely nothing - I shall concentrate instead on the beauty of our countryside and how lucky I am to be living in it rather than in the middle of some noisy city.
The hedges on our lane play host to countless beautiful flowers and the most beautiful of all at this time of the year is the wild rose, of which there are many in all colours from almost white to a very deep pink.
The other flower, which vies for first place in beauty at this time of the year, and which flowers up and down the lane, is the honeysuckle. I suppose it has the edge over the rose
because it has a glorious scent.
Meadow sweet is also in flower - that creamy, lacy plant - again with a sweet smell.
So all in all it is a joy to walk in the lane and to see the Summer flowers in all their glory. I shall try to get pleasure from them in these troubled times.
Incidentally, of all the words in the English language 'honeysuckle' has got to be one of my favourites. Have you a favourite (and no, John, you can't have Scotch eggs as yours).