Warm to come

13°C, westerly nearly made me late for work.

Last day of March, tomorrow is shorts’ weather: 19°C. And it’s D-day here. More on that  purge another time. Drowning in work this week- tomorrow’s report deadline will whoosh by after 5pm. These enigmatic comments will be explained in the near future.

Singing trees can be found sometimes even at night; the voices of birds are worth stopping for. Some birds sing slowly enough to listen to. Small passerines are just too damned fast to follow by ear. Is it blackbirds that sing late into the night? He stands high in a still-bare tree, singing dis-connected melodies, shaping charming but penetrating phrases at a pace we can follow.

Ponding

15C, light cloud & a little rain. No wind.

The pond is half dug. I can only find 1 hour after school each day to do it- shame it isn’t done by now. Anyway, there is a use for those wretched slabs- they are now side walls awaiting the pond liner for water proofing. Today I dug out a pair of narrow troughs to anchor the edges of the slabs. There is a strange grey gravelly layer, perhaps some old tarmac from the immediate post war time that these houses were built. At this rate, the pond could be done by the weekend. Except for one thing- marking & reports. Damn.

Slabs again

14°C, clear & rather nice.

Woke early, planted a few heathers before going to work. Odd that because I felt ill in the night- heart thumping and fitful sleep.Trying to place the wireframe cloche was no good this morning, a problem caused by another slab beneath the surface. Last year’s incredible slab crop came flooding back in my memory.

This evening, I got half a dozen barrow loads of soil out of the pond hole, another day like this could see it dug. It’s probably quite deep now, I’d know if I’d finished digging before dark.
Busy boy.

Equinox passed

13°C, clear bits, warmer tomorrow

12 hours & 13 minutes of daylight today. Check for yourself: here, on Date and Time.

Strange feeling, have I got a cold all of a sudden? Headache, lethargic and a sore throat. Hope clings to hayfever which comes on with beech pollen at this time of year. Some hope.

Serviced or not?

13°C, clear, pure sunshine

A few hours preparing the race bike for it’s first outing this year (tomorrow). My suspicion is, however, that it will be no better than last year despite servicing the gear levers at Campagnolo, stripping & re-seatting the headset bearing; after all that, it could be just as annoying to ride as it was in October.
One problem is that some jobs are necessary only every few years- like the headset. That’s enough time to forget the technical details- like the bearing size in the headset.

Gran Tourino

Clint Eastwood again, he’s on familiar ground with this one- vigilante, old damaged soldier in his last days struggling with a world that has moved on. He strikes up an unlikely friendship with an immigrant lad in a neighbourhood blighted by gangs. Fairly normal stuff for films of this genre, but there is an interesting relationship growing with cantankerous jousting. I kept going with the thread about soldiers living with ugly memories from war. I’ve always wondered how they do that.
I liked it enough.