Fair and Flowers

I'm attempting to subvert Blogger's desire not to let me add any photos to these posts by making multiple posts... Let's see if that works. Main reason why I haven't been blogging as often... Yay. It worked.

Last Wednesday night, friends Pete and Helen arrived (armed, unexpectedly, with a large tin of duck confit and some Maille mustard in the glasses I collect) and we drove out for a walk on the Devil's Dyke; it was lovely. It'd been hot, humid and generally unbearable all day, but it had cooled down by then, and Pete had seen lizard orchids near there the previous year. Most of them had already gone over, but there were some still around. Fantastic things: here's the general view:



and in knitterly fashion, here's the detail.

While we were looking for flora, we also found fauna. Or at least, the caterpillar of Saturnia Pavonia, or the Emperor Moth... Who says we don't get exotic species in the UK...

An additional interesting factor has been the Fair. View from bedroom window...

I am not one of those people who chooses to live by a village green and then complains endlessly about the stuff which happens on it. I am enthralled by most of the very loud post-midnight conversations/boy-girl arguments; I am continually reassured by the fact that at any time during daylight hours there will be someone moving about outside the window. I'm also very grateful that my front garden is composed of beautiful lime trees, grass and squirrels, none of which are maintained by me... Over 12 years, I've also been intrigued by the Fair because all of a sudden there are 50-60 people sleeping silently in a space which is usually completely empty.

My only, only request - and it's a modest one given the major decibels a few feet from the windows, is that they get a tape next year which is longer than 30 minutes before it all starts again. I know it does this because on the first evening there was a bad cover version of the BeeGees' Tragedy which played 8 times, followed by Kylie. Also on the second evening. This evening, I fled the village for the climes of Littleport; good company, nice chicken and Battlestar Galactica.