Good morning on a reasonably fine looking morning from this perspective (sitting in my study glancing out the windows) which is in somewhat marked contrast to the afternoon we had yesterday when Ms Playchute suggested a bike ride. At the time, the weather looked fairly reasonable – there was a fair amount of blue sky and sunshine. However, as we prepared to embark, a sharp shower arrived from nowhere and that should have been sufficient warning to the pair of us that this was not a good idea. In fact, we actually delayed our departure until the shower had passed and the skies looked moderately pleasant again.
What fools we were! As we got to about Priors Marston, some four miles along our circuit, the sky became increasingly forebodingly ominous (or ominously foreboding, if you prefer), that kind of dark slate grey which should provide sufficient forewarning that a deluge is imminent. And thus it proved to be – as we departed Priors Marston up the hill towards Priors Hardwick, the skies opened and within a matter of three or four pedal strokes, Ms Playchute and I were soaked to the skin. Penelope very wisely decided to shelter under a fairly substantial elm tree at the side of the road, a position with which I joined her for a few moments. However, as the wind was now blowing at a pace not unadjacent to hurricane velocity and I was beginning to feel a bit chilled, I decided to set off again, reckoning that the cycling would help to generate some warmth. In my imagination, I suppose, I explained this decision to Ms Playchute, expecting her to follow on. However, she must have watched somewhat incredulously as I cycled off up the hill; she had no intention of leaving the shelter of the tree until the rain had passed. Me – I set off up the hill and, to be fair, kept glancing back to see where she was and was somewhat mystified by her absence. After about a mile or so, and with no respite in the downpour, I took shelter under another significantly abundant elm tree and kept watch down the road awaiting the arrival of Ms Playchute. And I waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, as the downpour slowed to a drizzle I decided that she must have been submerged in a flash flood and set off back down the hill to find her.
The frosty look I received upon our meeting should have provided sufficient enlightenment that my imaginary explanation of the logic in pedalling through the downpour had not been voiced aloud, as I had somehow imagined it to be and that she was pretty fed up at being left behind (regrettably, not “high and dry”) by the side of the road. We pedalled on in stony silence, a bedraggled pair of sodden cyclists, for another couple of miles until the sky began to clear along with our respective dispositions. By the time we got home about an hour later the sky was, indeed, brilliantly clear and sunny. Hmmm. Looks like a good afternoon for a bike ride.
I meant to pass on the news a couple of weeks ago but have thus far forgotten to do so – our swallows have departed for their winter holidays in South Africa. It’s actually quite interesting when they go; they will be around in an afternoon and evening, swooping and soaring, teaching their latest brood how to grab insects in flight. On a fine evening we would sit out on the patio and watch them wheel about the sky above us, chirping instructions to the young ones. And then, all of a sudden, they are gone – one day they are there and the next there is not a sign of them. I wonder who decides and whether they have any disagreements similar to a pair of sodden cyclists sheltering under a tree at the side of the road. I suspect not.
And finally, this from the BBC web site:
Sudan man forced to ‘marry’ goat
A Sudanese man has been forced to take a goat as his “wife”, after he was caught having sex with the animal.
The goat’s owner, Mr Alifi, said he surprised the man with his goat and took him to a council of elders. They ordered the man, Mr Tombe, to pay a dowry of 15,000 Sudanese dinars ($50) to Mr Alifi.
“We have given him the goat, and as far as we know they are still together,” Mr Alifi said.
Mr Alifi, Hai Malakal in Upper Nile State, told the Juba Post newspaper that he heard a loud noise around midnight on 13 February and immediately rushed outside to find Mr Tombe with his goat.
“When I asked him: ‘What are you doing there?’, he fell off the back of the goat, so I captured and tied him up.”
Mr Alifi then called elders to decide how to deal with the case.
“They said I should not take him to the police, but rather let him pay a dowry for my goat because he used it as his wife,” Mr Alifi told the newspaper.
Hmmm. $50? Sounds like a pretty good deal to me!
Love to you all,
Greg