Scorchio

It was going to be a very hot day. I decided I'd take the risk and spend the day tooling about in air-conditioned trains and hope that the schedules aren't too fouled up (they were, by the by). 

The back garden is parched, there's literally one flower, a wilted rose on the Zephrine Drouaine, all else has gone over and fallen, even the hardy geraniums have packed it in. I've no idea what the holly blues, speckled woods and large whites are feeding on, though I know what they're laying their eggs on. I thought I'd best get the bird baths refilled before going out for the day. I came back in half-roasted and spent the next half hour blowing my nose. I decided against going out on an adventure. There's no excuse for this weakling stuff, back in the hot Summer of 1976, as you will doubtless have heard, we just took our second pullovers off, rolled up our sleeves and got on with working at t'mill. Which is nonsense, of course. Back in 1976 we treated it like the Second Coming, which is why people have been banging on about it for the past fifty years.

The worst of it is that in next to no time we'll be moaning about it being cold and wet all the while.

A robin has found its song in the back garden. The puzzle every year for me is whether it's one of the adults back from moult or a youngster taking over the territory. Robins tend to have short and hectic lives so it could go either way. In the absence of individual physical peculiarities or a leg ring I'm not likely to know. Anyway, there's one strutting his stuff out there sitting on a pine cone feeder singing along.

I weighed up the pros and cons of going out looking for bats this evening and decided I wouldn't bother, I'd finish the block of writing I'd set myself to do and get an early night. My typing speed is directly proportional to the amount of tea that I drink so there will be the occasional natural break. As I was washing my hands just after sunset I heard the call of a female tawny owl. It had moved on by the time I got to the front door. That's either the second or third time I've heard one passing overhead. I'm pretty sure we don't have a resident owl locally because with my sleep patterns I would have heard it.