Sunday, August 31, 2014
Twas ever thus, twill ever be so.
Half a dozen enormous owls screech at us as we walk across the village green on our late night walk. Squadrons of bats zoom by our ears. 100 or maybe 200 of them. They move so fast they're impossible to count. Has the warm weather brought out a feast of voles and dragonflies ? 'The font' informs me that a group of adolescent owls isn't a parliament it's a clutch.
The generally miserable summer has suddenly become cloudless and warm. A sure sign that the new school year starts this coming week. Natures revenge on eight year olds. Twas ever thus, 'twill ever be so.
We go to the bar at the rugby club for our morning libation. The new season about to start. The coffee is undrinkable. Bob and Sophie get given their water in a silver foil baking tray. A very masculine touch that doesn't make up for the lack of a half croissant.
Sophie spends her day glaring at the wren and the goldfinch that have taken up residence in the wisteria by the front door. She is tireless in her annoyance.
Bob is too busy living life in the fast lane to notice the errant birds.
Life with two young healthy dogs is a joy.