Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Wednesday, 10 August 2016
Lazing on a sunny afternoon
I couldn't be arsed to go to work yesterday, so I went to IFORD MANOR. (Spot the attempt to entice the H@@s over.) I parked up against the river and tried to catch-up on sleep, but was kept pleasantly awake by children in the shallows with little nets being shouted instructions by their mother, who was simulataneously trying to control two huge and boistrous dogs on long leashes in a slightly deeper part.
Then two girls on horseback turned up and attempted to persuade their mounts to go into the river. One horse was obviously scared of water and kept turning full circle before bolting for the bank, only to be turned round and sent back in again. The noise was tremendous.
A Kingfisher flashed past, and once again my Pavlov's response to the event was to remember that my mother spent her entire life never having seen a Kingfisher, despite years of trying.
I once took her out to a spot where I knew to be a Kingfisher nesting-place, and we stared at the stream for great stretches at a time, knowing that one would appear sooner or later, but only for a brief instant.
About three times that day, my mother - having a low boredom threshold - would look away just as the irridescent bird flew past, and only respond to my shouts a second too late. She died never having seen a Kingfisher.