Stopping Off to look at the View

One of the pleasures of my job (there aren't that many believe me)is the driving. Take today for example. I had a meeting in Buxton first thing and then I was off to Flagg, a small village a few miles outside. The meeting was at a farmhouse and as they were in the process of converting the inside and the outside,the place was full of dust and men carrying things with purposeful looks on their faces. The sort of looks that people who are doing serious DIY put on to faze chaps in suits like me that would not know a piece of 2 by 4 if it leapt up and whacked him on the head. So it was quite a short meeting, which was fine by me. Driving back I dawdled along the lanes. A kestrel swooped down from a tree and after the briefest of hovers crashed onto some small suspecting creature in the field. I pulled over and got out to have a look, but it was windy and raining so I got back in the car smartish. (I'm a fair weather bird watcher!) A little further along a flock of Goldfinches gambolled and played around some bushes chasing this way and that. It seemed it was just for the pleasure of it but I suspect there was some deeper motive to do with impressing other Goldfinches of the opposite sex. After all spring is approaching. I made a mental note to put the binoculars in the car ( I am always making a mental note to do this and I always forget. Its my age I guess. I can quite happily remember who played in the Bath team against Leicester in 1984, but trying to remember to take the binoculars with me i the car is beyond me. Anyway I stopped briefly in a lay-by to look at the view. The grit stone hills gave way to the gentler limestone, criss-crossed with stone walls and the bumps and humps left by the lead miners all those years ago. Even with the grey clouds driving across the sky and the rain slanting towards me, even with the wind rocking the car, its a beautiful place to live and work. Sometimes I just need to stop off and appreciate it. My phone hummed at me. Back to work then.

Thanks Guys But you really didn't have to bother

The cats, suffering a pang of guilt about the meagre contribution that they make to the BW household, (actually I don't think that they suffer from guilt at all but thats another story) or perhaps having picked up the vibes about economising, as we prepare for the financial meteor coming our way when our five year fixed interest rate mortgage comes to an end very soon, decided to make a contribution to the household. They left it on the floor by the back door for me to step on this morning. Luckily I was wearing shoes and luckily they had left it on the stone floor and not on the mat. It was a mouse* or to be precise the bloody remains of half a mouse. They had obviously had problems butchering it, as the floor was covered in blood. I disposed of the mouse and Mrs BW wiped up the blood. Over breakfast we speculated as to whether they had eaten the missing half and decided to share the other half with us, or as they have been known to in the past, stored the missing half somewhere safe. Somewhere where it will putrify nicely until either it is ready for them to eat, just as they like it, or they forget about it and either I or Mrs BW stumble across it on one of our very infrequent spring cleans. A cursory search behind the fridge revealed that it was for the moment mouseless, and none of the likely places i.e their bed revealed so much as a whisker. For the moment the smart money is on them having eaten or disposed of it. I suppose we should be grateful as that is after all what cats are for. That and keeping us amused of course. But somehow I prefer it when they don't bother and the kitchen floor remains a dead mouse (or shrew) free zone.

* The Weasel unhelpfully pointed out that it looked more like a shrew than a mouse. I suggested that she might like to move it for me but she preferred to get a book to prove to me that it was a shrew. I pointed out that with only a tail , the rear legs and a bit of liver and kidney any identification was problematical, and that "Mouse" covered the eventualities. She still insisted that it was a Shrew. We agreed to disagree.

Sunset over Fairfield

After a wonderful day, a truly amazing sunset. Mrs BW and I got up early this morning and went up to the woods. The trees were full of birds, Great Tits, Blue Tits, Chaffinches, Robins and I watched a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker tapping away at a tree trunk. It was very cold and the ground frozen with ice seeping out of the cracks in the rocks. It set me up for the day and the the sunset rounded it all off.

A Walk in the Woods on a Sunny Sunday

It was too good to miss. A hard frost, the temperature fell to -7.0C during the night and was only at -4.0C at 10.00am and the sun was shining. For a change we went to Grinlow Woods. This Beech wood is on the site of old lime kilns and the hills and hummocks and trees make for an interesting stroll. Today, warmed by the sun, and may be tricked into thinking it was spring, the squirrels were out and about racing and leaping from tree to tree, generally getting to know each other after the winter.

The woods were full of noise. From the crys and shouts from the people on the Go Ape walkways and slides to the drumming and drilling of the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker. Smaller birds flitted about in the warmth of the sunlight in the upper canopy. They defied both my attempts to photopgraph them and even Mrs BW's attempts to spot them through the Binoculars.

It was good to be out and about, and the cafe at Pooles Cavern was open so we popped in for a coffee and some apple cake before going home to wake the Weasel.

A Lovely Spring Day

It was such a lovely spring day, that we had to take the opportunity to get out for a walk. So Mrs BW and I got up early and leaving the teenagers safe in their beds at home we spent a happy couple of hours walking in the Goyt.

It was warmish and not that busy. The recent rain had left the ground soft but the going was relatively easy. The sheep lazily grazed only stopping briefly to glance at us as we passed. They had very white fleece.

We stopped for some fruit, and sat with our backs to the woods and stared over at the resevoir. The trees were full of birds, mainly great tits, but there were blue and coal as well. A lesser spotted woodpecker made a brief appearance. We could have stayed there for for longer, but even though it was a Sunday there were things to do, so after a few more minutes quiet contemplation we set off back.

At the car park a couple were arguing about the merits of different cycle saddles. The pond was empty of ducks and the water rippled in the slight breeze. A last look round and then it was back to reality.

Birds and Fishes and Things

The small and meagre bird box that we put up (Mrs BW put up) on our fence a couple of years ago has been attracting interest from a couple of pairs of Blue Tits and a pair of Great Tits. Infact things got out of hand yesterday and the blue tits indulged in a form of gang warfare that had a pair of them scrabbling around on the ground ripping tuffs of feathers out of each other. I watched with increasing alarm as even our dosy cats were bound to notice at some point, but luckily they ceased the fighting and backed off before our lazy feline lay abouts could be bothered to stir themselves from their slumbers and investigate. It would be good if they did nest in the box, but a pair of Blue tits had a good look last year , even moving some bedding in before finally abandoning their efforts.

We continued the birdy theme at tea. The fledglings asked, as they do occasionally, if we would ask them questions, and their chosen subject was birds. After about five minutes I had already exhausted my limited knowledge and Mrs BW helpfully threw in a question about fish. "Name four fish that live in the sea?" She asked. Thats a bit easy I thought and suspected a trap. There was none of course. The fledglings thought for a while and the Weasel (aged 15) supplied Salmon and Trout. Mrs BW appeared to be about to reject Trout but I helpfuly pointed out that there were Sea Trout. Mrs BW threw me a look which did not bode well for later relations. The Munch (aged 13) who had done well on the bird questions piped up with "Gammon", I spluttered into my tea and was just coming up for air when the Weasel added and "Hammock".

"Hammock! I think you mean Haddock. And Gammon is a Ham it comes from pigs." Mrs BW explained helpfully. For a moment I had visions of underwater pigs, and of lying peacefully in the sun stretched out on a haddock. I left the mug of tea alone for a bit.

An Occasional visitor drops by for a snack

I just happened to glance out of the window. There had been a lot of noise from the resident sparrows and tits (great. blue and coal). They had been squabbling earlier about territory and I assumed that they were just doing more of the same. Then I saw the Sparrow Hawk sitting in the Chery Tree. Was he (for it is a male) guarding the nuts? I sneeked upstairs to get the camera and managed to take this shot through the kitchen window. He did not hang around long and soon flew off. But a dull day, a tedious day was suddenly special.

More later on what the tits are up to.

One poor pass doesn't mean your're a crap fly half

I've witnessed some appalling rugby in my time, hell I've played in a few games myself. (Our recent 86-0 thrashing by Macc 4ths springs to mind and the 153-0 defeat to La Villa whilst on tour a few years ago still haunts me. Mind you we were playing the Spanish National team and they had a stand and a band and we'd been on the piss for 48 hours so I guess we had a excuse) But England in the last twenty minutes on Saturday take the prize. Perhaps they had heard the World Cup winning coach of South Africa express the view that the flood gates were about to open and thought they would make him eat his words. We were due to go out on Saturday night with my Welsh friend and his wife. They cried off earlier in the week. Thank God. It would have been awful having to sit there listening to the gloating, as the Welsh accent got thicker and thicker as the evening progressed, especially as I had a few below the belt comments to make about playing Ospreylia. Anyway for a totally objective view on the game and its wider political, social and revolutionary ramifications can I recommend the excellent No Good Boyo. We can't do that poorly against the Italians can we?

The Goyt in the Snow

With no rugby I spent the earlier part of the afternoon out and about. It was a crisp and sunny afternoon with a keen wind that cut through the several layers of thermal clothing that I had on. It was good to be out though I could not get the car down Goyt lane to the pond. Well I could have got it down but I would not have been able to get it back up again.

The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a disaster.

This reminded me a bit of the English team in the last twenty minutes, though I think that actually on closer inspection the sheep are better organised. There is always next week and it could have been worse, we could have been playing all fifteen of the Ospreys.

Dam, Dam, Dam.

Just as I was feeling better, now that January has gone, just as I was feeling like posting a little something on the blog, it has to go and bloody snow, so now the rugby tomorrow is touch and go.

We had a "super" saturday lined up. At 2.30pm Buxton Thirds take on Alwinians Seventh team in the mud and filth that passes for our pitch up at the inappropriately named Sunnyfields, and then after a quick shower upto the bar to watch the English take on the might of......the Ospreys masquaranding as the Welsh nation. No matter, beers and more beers and then into town for more beers before finally staggering home, clutching a takeaway and trying to convince Mrs BW that I have only had a few and I am not pished, its just the way I look. Spare room and a hangover for Sunday morning. Perfect.

But now its gone and snowed and it will freeze and the rugby, our rugby is in the balance. Bugger!