Alexa

 

Alexa

Yesterday a text message from Amazon invited us to update to Alexa Plus. The change was swiftly accomplished, and it was put through its paces.

I think it takes slightly longer to respond, though Barry doesn't agree - he says it's quicker in switching - and is more verbose. The voice is pleasant and it's much better at compound questions. It asks if it can help with further enquiries and when told, ‘No’ it responds with comments like, ‘No problem,’ or ‘Fair enough,’ or ‘Right, then, catch you later.’ These reactions could prove irritating if often repeated.

‘Conversations’ are startlingly realistic and some information is accurate. I commented that it sounds realistic, and it answered that it was ‘a digital assistant and couldn’t make a cup of tea to save its circuit.’  

I tested its knowledge of Ocicats. It had no idea about them, which I found surprising, as it’s a breed that has existed for more than sixty years. It talked about the Australian Mist cat, instead.

Barry reported a bug, (glitch or gremlin) which was acknowledged and eradicated quickly. He remarked that he was impressed by the speed of its response, and it thanked him. He then asked for the square root of a negative number. It was almost correct in its answer, but it said the square root of 9, for example, was 3i, rather than the square root of minus 9 is 3i. After that, he asked about the absolute value of pi, but had to correct it to recognise that pi is not a rational number and has an infinite number of decimal points. Once again, it thanked him for the correction.

We use Alexa for timers, lists, reminders, weather, and the control of home devices. Alexa Plus is entertaining, and loquacious, but not foolproof. Just as people need to understand the basics of mathematical calculations before relying on a calculator, Alexa Plus and its older sibling, Alexa, should be used advisedly.

Be aware, too, that it is listening all the time, so don’t reveal any secrets. You never know who else might be paying attention!

Artemis II

 

Artemis II

                                Artemis II official crew portrait

Left to right: NASA astronauts Christina Koch, Victor Glover, Canadian Space Agency Astronaut Jeremy Hansen, NASA Astronaut Reid Wiseman

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Unexpectedly, we watched the launch of Artemis II on Wednesday night. Earlier in the day, we had turned on the television, having misread the expected launch time in minutes rather than hours. We decided we would not stay up to watch it, but somehow we did.

 I remember previous manned launches being extremely exciting. Maybe it was the uncertainty of the process, particularly after the tragedy of the space shuttle failures, ‘Challenger’ in 1986 and ‘Columbia’ in 2003, each resulting in the deaths of their seven crew members.

Artemis II is the first mission to take humans out of low Earth orbit since 1972 and will take them further from Earth than ever before. It is planned to travel beyond the far ‘dark’ side of the moon, then slip back into the gravitational pull that will bring it back to earth, the pleasingly called ‘free-return trajectory.’

Nonetheless, there are many things that could go wrong during the ten-day mission, and no-one associated with it will breathe easily until the four crew members have returned safely.

The launch was impressive, but not nail-biting – perhaps it was the presenters, who seemed to lack enthusiasm. However many rocket launches there are, each one is significant and inspiring. Those who complain that such ventures are vanity projects and the money could be more usefully used on Earth miss the point that we have benefitted from the discoveries developed through space exploration.

We speedily take some such benefits for granted, without realising how they came about. For example, we have GPS navigation, satellite broadcasting, improvements in MRI and CT scanning, lightweight prosthetic limbs, water purification, fire-resistant materials, shock absorption materials used in helmets and car seats, monitoring storms and wildfires.The most obvious one is the space blanket, seen wrapped around the shoulders of every marathon runner at the end of the race, or used in emergencies for accident victims.

 It was developed by NASA in 1964!

Juliasaurus

 

Juliasaurus

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I wondered is this was an April Fool’s joke, but apparently Juliasaurus Paleo was discovered in the Morrison Formation, Wyoming, North America in 2020. The Morrison Formation, an area covering 1-3 million square kilometres, has been a rich source of dinosaur fossils since the late nineteenth century.

It prowled the earth around ninety million years before its infamous, much larger cousin, Tyrannosaurus Rex. Its skull formation and dentition suggest that it slashed its prey rather than crushing it. Juliasaurus is a specimen that is almost three-quarters complete, which is unusual, as most dinosaur discoveries are highly fragmented.

Research continues to determine whether Juliasaurus is an entirely new species.

Meanwhile, on loan from a private collector, it goes on public display at Hollytrees Museum in Colchester on April 3^rd.                                            

 

Ospreys

 

Ospreys (Pandion haliaetus)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The ospreys are returning to their UK nesting sites.

Rutland, Poole, Dyfi, Loch Doon, Foulshaw Moss, and others have all recorded ospreys arriving. Some still await their mates, while others are already mating. Some nests are currently unoccupied, as in Loch Arkaig, but this might change in the next few days.

For those who follow the birds, it can be an anxious time, wondering if the ones they watched in 2025, and often in years before, will return this year. Then there are the weeks of watching and waiting and hoping that breeding will be successful and the young birds will survive.

Eggs and baby birds are at risk from predators like the white-tailed eagle, large owls and corvids, and pine martens. Older, stronger siblings will often bully younger chicks, not allowing them to feed. The weather can also be a factor. Driving rain and fierce winds can chill eggs or chicks quickly, particularly if both parents are hunting for food. Sometimes, one of the parents dies, and it is extremely difficult for the surviving bird to source enough food for the chicks and itself. Exhaustion can be deadly.

Rutland Water ospreys at Manton Bay have been successful for thirty years, raising multiple broods of three and four. Ospreys in other locations often struggle to bring one chick to maturity.

They are stunning birds and there are a number of videos on YouTube – just make sure you get the birds and not the Welsh rugby team in Swansea!

Historically, ospreys have been known as sea hawks, river hawks, or fish hawks. They became extinct in Britain in 1916, but careful reintroduction has seen them increase from two breeding pairs in 1967 to over three hundred pairs in the twenty-first century.

Ospreys remain rarer than golden eagles in the UK.

Troglodyte

 

Troglodyte

Troglodytes troglodytes

Calling someone a troglodyte is abusive, but it’s not an insult that’s commonly used in the twenty-first century. There are other, far more stinging labels.

A troglodyte is a person who lives in a cave, the word primarily referring to prehistoric cave dwellers. It comes from the Greek trōglē  (hole) and dyein (to enter)

 In biology, the prefix troglo indicates how much a creature depends on caves. For example, bats and some insects can be described as ‘troglophiles,’ meaning that although they appreciate the shelter caves may afford, they can live outside them.

On the other hand, a ‘troglobite’ is an organism that is adapted to and dependent on caves, like the blind cave fish or cave salamander. Troglobites often have pale skin, poor or no eyesight, a slower metabolism, and heightened senses of touch, smell, or vibration awareness.

         The troglodyte I heard and saw in the garden this morning is more correctly Troglodytes troglodytes, the wren. It is the commonest breeding bird in the UK, but surprisingly rarely seen, at least by me! It feeds on spiders and insects, searching among leaves to find them. It can often be seen creeping mouse-like round plant pots, seeking food.

Wrens do not have huge reserves of fat and suffer appreciably in cold weather. They huddle together for warmth, and in the winter of 1969, 61 wrens were found in a nesting box in Norfolk.

They typically nest between March and July, and often produce two broods per season.

 

Invitations

 

Invitations

Increasingly, during news programmes, we are invited to ‘have a listen to’ an item or a speaker. Is it a friendly, informal way of introducing a snippet of news, or are we being patronised, or even infantilised?

It’s not discourteous to say, ‘Listen to the next item.’

Sometimes we are asked to ‘have a read of’ an article. It’s not a slice of cake to be held in the hand. I don’t ‘have a read’ of a book – I just read it.

We have always ‘had a look at’ things, though perhaps we should say, ‘Look at this,’ but asking someone to ‘have a taste of’ a dish would be more easily expressed as, ‘try this,’ or ‘taste this.’

Must we mangle the language so badly that it bears no relation to what we actually mean? Do we have to wrap every sentence in extraneous vocabulary to make them more acceptable? It’s not good to be peremptory, but it makes little sense to add unnecessary words. They don’t clarify matters.

After I had written this moaning, whingeing piece, I read an article by Giles Coren in The Times. He writes so well.

Samba

 

Samba

                                Capybara (Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Samba the capybara, who escaped from Marwell Zoo, is still at large, evading capture, and hopefully enjoying her freedom. She and her sister, Tango, both nine months old, were transported from a wildlife park in Suffolk. On March 17^th, the day after they arrived in Hampshire, they both escaped. Tango was caught very quickly, but Samba is proving elusive.

Capybaras are the world’s largest rodents, and are best seen as giant guinea pigs, sharing the same docility and lack of aggression as their much smaller cousins. Adults reach an average length of 1.4 metres and a weight of around 60 kg. They are native to South America, apart from Chile. They are mainly predated on by jaguars, cougars, caimans, and anacondas, none of which they will encounter in UK.

They are semi-aquatic, with webbed feet, and are excellent swimmers, able to swim underwater for minutes at a time. They mate only in water and a female not desirous of a male’s attention, will either leave the water or submerge herself. Presumably, the male would also be able to submerge, so I can’t see how that would help. Maybe they have to keep their heads above water as they copulate.

They can also run at speeds up to thirty-five kilometres per hour for short periods.

However, Samba is one on her own, relishing the peace and tranquillity of the Hampshire countryside. Her putative keepers have used drones, sniffer dogs, and thermal imaging to track her, with limited success. They have subsequently sought and gained permission to bait humane traps with melon and banana for this gentle herbivore, foods which are unlikely to attract badgers or other carnivores.

Local residents have been asked to check their garden ponds, as capybaras are attracted to water. The last time two capybaras escaped from Marwell, around thirty years ago, it was two months before they were captured. They were found in the same area that Samba is in now, near the river Itchen. Staff from the zoo are patrolling the riverbank, but are prepared for a long period of searching.

                                Capybara with young pups

Dancing Queen

 

Dancing Queen

The two ‘Dancing Queen’ amaryllis bulbs that I planted on January 11^th are now opening their flowers. They have been growing for almost eleven weeks , so I was beginning to wonder if they would come up to snuff, but they have, and that is pleasing.The original conservatory bulb was far behind the one in the sitting room, but rapidly caught up after we moved it into the warmth to join its companion. 

Recently, Herschel caught sight of the unfurling frilly flower and leapt up to assail it. Maybe he thought it was an exotic bird set free in the house. We discouraged him, and he hasn’t attempted to attack it since. I was quite expecting to find the stem broken one morning, but that has not happened . . . yet!

I have been delighted with the amaryllis and will certainly grow them again.

Naked as a jaybird

 

Naked as a jaybird

                        Blue jay (Cyanocitta cristata cyanotephra) 

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Debby from 'Life's Funny Like That' mentioned this expression in a comment the other day and it was unfamiliar to me, so, being incurably nosy, I looked it up. It is an American idiom, first recorded in 1843, but growing in popularity from the 1920s.

It replaced the earlier saying, ‘naked as a robin,’ perhaps because it seemed a more robust phrase. Some have suggested that the original idiom was ‘naked as a fledgling robin/jaybird,’ since such baby birds are naked on hatching, but this was dismissed by others who claim that the word ‘fledgling’ was never part of the expression.

Why was the saying never ‘naked as a jay’ or even ‘naked as a blue jay,’ which has a nice ring to it?

‘Naked as a jaybird’ can be used to refer to ‘jailbirds,’ or prisoners who were stripped and disinfected before being issued with prison garb. ‘Jailbird’ has been in use since the seventeenth century in England, conjuring rather fanciful images of miscreants as birds in iron cages, or gaols. Gaol was a standard English spelling until the middle of the twentieth century, but is rarely used now.

Something else I read suggested that the expression arose because young jay nestlings, before their feathers have grown, often push their siblings out of the nest, when they are naked.

In short, I’m almost as mystified as I was before I started looking at this idiom. Of course, it is shameful to be caught naked in public, unless you’re staying in a nudist colony or disporting yourself on a nudist beach.

Is a nudist beach one that doesn’t wear clothes? What is the well-dressed beach wearing this year? 

Flying colours

 

Flying colours

                                                Image source

Marlene at Poppy Patchwork, or rather, her little cat, Lilly, ‘passed with flying colours’ at her recent visit to the vet. That’s always an excellent appraisal, but Lilly wasn’t wearing any colours, other than her home-grown fur, so what did the vet mean?

The phrase is a maritime expression from the Age of Exploration, (early 15^th to early seventeenth centuries) when much of the globe was explored by European sailors. The ‘colours’ were the flags that ships flew to indicate their nationality and to communicate with other ships.

Ships would not legally fight unless their national flags were flying.

After battle, ships would return to port with flags flying to show that they had been victorious. If their flags had been lowered, it was a signal that they had been defeated. To pass (the harbour bar) with flying colours was a way of saying they had been triumphant, and was adopted by landlubbers as a phrase to declare success.

Sometimes, unfortunately, a ship would sink with colours flying, the crew having continued to fight valiantly despite clear defeat. Often, colours would be nailed to the mast, indicating a determination to fight until the bitter end.

To ‘nail your colours to the mast’ or ‘show your true colours’ means to show your true intent, your alliance.

Pirates and other malefactors frequently sailed ‘under false colours.’ They would hoist the sail of a friendly nation and thus be able to approach closely a ship in which they were interested, probably one carrying valuable cargo. The notorious pirate, Blackbeard, used such a ploy, but as the ships closed, he would then reveal the ‘Jolly Roger,’ (the skull and crossbones flag), and the crew would surrender the ship.

As Lilly and her family live near Portsmouth, it is appropriate that she ‘passed with flying colours.’

Driven!

 

Driven!

Jellicoe models his recovery cone

With his head securely surrounded by a blue recovery cone of washable material, Jellicoe is prevented from scratching or grooming. The hood is fastened with draw cords around his neck, and protects the site of the oesophageal tube insertion while it heals, as well as his eye. He did manage to remove the cone one day, and immediately scratched his neck and made it bleed, but we were able to replace it instantly, and no lasting harm was done.

Every day brings another small improvement in Jellicoe’s recovery. On Sunday, he headbutted me, something he had not done since his operation. It is a sign of affection and bonding, and I hadn’t realised how much I had missed it.

He is not a cat who overgrooms. Some cats wash for hours after eating, or being touched by humans, but Jellicoe and Herschel do only what is necessary and no more to keep their fur in good condition.

However, the urge to groom is extremely strong, and he licks his paw, as he would normally, to scrub his face, and works hard to complete his ablutions, ‘washing’ the exterior of his hood. It looks very endearing, but I wonder if he is frustrated by not being able to complete the task effectively. The rasping of his tongue on the material is persistent and quite loud. Eventually, he stops, and then attempts to satisfy an itch, again being able only to scratch his collar.

Gilbert quickly overcame his consternation at the sight of the wavering blue object making its way around the house, and realised it was only his little friend in strange head gear. The cone accentuates the lateral movement of the head common to all cats, wild or domestic, as Jellicoe saunters across a room.

The eye is not completely healed, but looks much less sore. Jellicoe does not appreciate eye drops being applied, but the cat heroin he is still having once a day soon sends him off to sweet dreamland.

In a few days’ time he will return to the Aura, for his condition to be assessed. Hopefully, he will not need any further surgery.

Veterinary medicine and surgery are extraordinarily advanced. There are significant overlaps and coordination between the two disciplines. For example, research into Feline Immunodeficiency Virus (FIV) has contributed to AIDs research for almost forty years, leading to the development of antivirals for the treatment of HIV.

Advances have also been made in the study and control of zoonoses. The ‘One Medicine’ concept advocates studying diseases across species, to the benefit of increasing knowledge in human and animal pathology.

Guess!

 

Guess!

‘I think I’ll get two,’ he said, apropos of nothing.

There are times when I listen carefully to any following remarks in the hope that I can disentangle what he means. Now, frequently short of patience, I am more inclined to ask, ‘What are you talking about?’

Following a butterfly mind as it flits from topic to topic, subjects often only loosely associated with each other, can be exhausting. It’s not sufficient that I note what he’s carrying so that I can tell him later where he’s left his keys, wallet, pen, notebook, coat, tablet, or any number of other items of greater or lesser importance that migrate from room to room, and occasionally to the car. No, I have to work out which of the many subjects he’s researching to understand where his mind has taken him. It could be anything from camera lenses to history to specialised wire to reading glasses.

This time, it was insulin for Jellicoe. We like to ensure that we have plenty in reserve in case we drop a bottle, which then breaks – this has happened only once, but could happen again. Each time he goes to the animal hospital, Barry takes insulin, syringes, needles, and a supply of diabetic food in case Jellicoe has to stay there. So, he decided to get two bottles of insulin from the chemist, but, as it turns out, there was only one available, and he has to go back tomorrow. Let’s hope we don’t drop any bottles tonight.

It’s a grand life if you don’t weaken! 

World Meteorological Day

 

World Meteorological Day, 23rd March 2026

                                        World Meteorological Day

The striking image above greeted me when I logged on this morning. It was taken in the Sonoran Desert which I’m told has two rainy seasons – moderate winter rainfalls and powerful summer monsoons. It is the latter storms that bring lightning storms, sudden drops in temperature and intense deluges.

The following is a message from António Guterres, Secretary-General of the United Nations.

On this World Meteorological Day, we are reminded that foresight saves lives. 

Climate chaos is rewriting the rules of weather, with record heat, longer droughts, rising seas and ever more frequent and extreme disasters. Accurate, trusted science is our first line of defence.

The World Meteorological Organization and national services help keep us safe by weaving a global web of data, from land, sea, air and space – turning measurements into forecasts, and forecasts into early warnings. Yet the global observing system is under strain, with critical gaps, especially in least developed countries and small island developing States. 

This year’s theme, Observing Today, Protecting Tomorrow, is a call to action.  Governments, development banks and the private sector must scale up support for our global observing backbone, from surface stations to satellites, and ensure data is shared openly and equitably.  And we must accelerate Early Warnings for All so that, by 2027, every person is protected by life-saving alerts.  Investing in observation pays many times over – strengthening peace, security, resilience and sustainable development.   

By observing today, we can protect tomorrow – for people, for planet, for prosperity, and for generations to come.

Will his words resonate with those who have the power to act? 2027 is a breath away. 

Gardening

    

Gardening

Jay (Garrulus glandarius) taken a few years ago

It was a beautiful day yesterday, and the sun is shining brightly again, today. though not as warmly. Therefore, out into the garden we ventured to bring the wilderness into some sort of order. That entailed pruning (polite word for savaging) several innocent shrubs and trees. We have an hour’s extra daylight now. I jest – it’s only half an hour.

Anyway, it looks a little tidier now. There’s still much to do, but, oh, boy! I ache. I must be getting old. (Must I? Do I have to?)

There is much activity outside. Butterflies flutter by, birds sing fit to bust and chase each other round and round, and squirrels scamper through the still bare oak tree highways.

For three days now, a jay (Garrulus glandarius) has visited our garden. It’s unusual at this time of year. We see them in the autumn, when they’re collecting and caching acorns, a habit responsible for the rapid spread of oak trees after the last Ice Age, around 115,000 to 11,700 years ago (that was a cruel, harsh winter!)

It was probably eating insects. Fortunately, it is too early for the stag beetles to emerge – they are in enough danger without becoming a tasty snack.

Jays are the most colourful of the European corvids and always a joy to see. They are shy, woodland birds, unlike their bold strutting relatives, the smartly dressed magpies, and the clever, cunning, soberly clad crows and jackdaws.

Jay is an archaic term, from the early seventeenth century, for a foolish or dim-witted person. In the 1900s, in the US, it was used to describe an unworldly person, particularly from a rural area, not accustomed to the hustle and bustle of city life, and unaware of the dangers inherent in crossing a busy road.

From that meaning arose the term, ‘jaywalking.’ Jaywalking, or crossing a road against the lights, or not at a designated crossing, or simply, carelessly, is frowned upon in many cultures and can lead to a fine.

Popinjay derives from an Arabic word, babbagha, meaning parrot. A person described as a popinjay was considered conceited and overly absorbed with their appearance. It also indicated someone who talked much but said little of import, an empty sounding vessel. It was in common use for several hundred years, from the thirteenth to the nineteenth centuries. It is a word which could be brought back usefully into the modern lexicon.

‘Jay’ is also modern slang for a joint, or hand-rolled cigarette containing cannabis.

Cat

 

This is a slight reworking of a post I wrote many years ago.

Cat

                                            Winston Ocicat 

I am Cat. I grace you with my presence when I so wish, and recline on your lap, kneading and needling with my claw-sharp paws, primal recollections of comfort and warmth awakened in my memory-rich brain.

I loosen my fur and give it to you. I smile when it tickles your nose and you sneeze.

I pull your hand to me with my curled paw, and caress it with my head, over and over, my scent mixing with yours. I lick your skin with my rough, pink tongue, and you do not stop me for you fear offending me. I bite you, gently, and you do not withdraw. 

I possess you, and you love me.

I speak to you in different voices. I cry when I am hungry, ever louder, if you do not answer my needs swiftly. At other times, my tone is gentle, pleading, kindly. My meaning is difficult to understand, but I repeat until you learn, and then I am content. Sometimes I just want you to talk to me - then I beg politely with a silent miaou. 

The silent miaou. 

I like the fireside, and thank you for it. The heat melts my bones till I lie limp and sated. Outside, summer sun saturates me while I dream of other ages and lands. I twitch my paws and whiskers, flick my ears and call out. I am Cat, ancient as time, wise with atavistic memories. Through the centuries, I have been honoured, worshipped, abused, abandoned.

 I am a god and I am dust.

 My instincts are ancient and inherent. I watch the birds and chitter. I chase the sunbeams. I capture moths. In the small, wee hours I prowl and yowl, then join you in your bed, curling against you, lightly pinning your arm with mine.

 I have no need to earn my place in your home – it is my right to allow you to serve me. I may catch a fly or chase a spider if I wish. I will hunt a rat or mouse, because I want to. You cannot train me, but I will educate you.

 When you please me, I give you my sweetest gift – a rumbling reverberation from deep inside that makes you laugh and wonder at the skill with which I continue to purr, breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, breathing out.

 I am Cat. I am yours and you adore me.

 

Eyra

 

Eyra (Herpailurus yagouaroundi or Felis eyra)

                                            Eyra or jaguarandi

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Eyra is a pretty Welsh name, meaning ‘snow.’

(How is it pronounced? Eye-rah, Ear-ah, Ai-rah or some other?)

The eyra or jaguarundi is a small wildcat, resembling a large, reddish-brown, grey, or brownish-black weasel or otter. It is known as the Otter Cat of the Americas because of its long, streamlined body and otter-like tail. It is similar in size to a large domestic cat, but stands higher at the shoulder. Its head resembles that of an otter, being flattened, with small, rounded ears.

It is diurnal, unlike most wild cats, which are nocturnal, and is secretive and elusive. It can be found in tropical forests as well as deserts and scrubland. Its range covers Central and South America, with the majority living in Peru, Venezuela and Brazil.

Jaguarundis are skilful hunters and eat a varied, carnivorous diet, including rabbits, rodents, reptiles and birds. They breed throughout the year, with each litter bearing between one and four kittens.

It is illegal to hunt them, but they are often persecuted because they kill poultry. The population is declining through loss of habitat, human encroachment, unintentional trapping, and road casualties, though it is considered as of least concern on the IUCN (International Union for Conservation of Nature) Red List.

Natural predators include puma, jaguar, ocelot, large snakes, eagles and large hawks.

In captivity, this attractive mammal may live up to fifteen years, but in the wild its lifespan is thought to be around seven to ten years.

Live and learn (3)

 

Live and learn (3)

                                            Tawa 

                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

 Two words this week, both relating to New Zealand.

Tawa (Beilschmiedia tawa) is a tall evergreen tree in the laurel family. It bears sprays of pale green flowers which develop large, purple fruits resembling damsons or plums. 

Tawa fruit 

Image source

The fruit can be eaten, but is said to taste of turpentine! The stones, or kernels, can be roasted for food, and the bark used to produce a drink.

The timber is widely used for furniture and flooring.

Tawa 
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

Tawa is also the South Asian name for a large, flat, circular griddle, used to cook chapattis and other flatbreads, and for frying meat, or paneer (often called ‘Indian cottage cheese’)

Weta 
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

The second word is weta. Weta is a large, flightless brown insect in a group of about one hundred species in the grasshopper family. It is mainly nocturnal and omnivorous, often scavenging, though the giant and tree weta feed on lichens, leaves and fruit.   

It is native to New Zealand, and has few natural predators but has fallen foul of introduced mammals. Consequently, some weta species are now considered critically endangered.

Black arm bands

 

Black arm bands

Queen Victoria 1819-1901

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

When Queen Victoria’s beloved husband, Prince Albert, died in 1861, she dictated that her servants should wear black arm bands for eight years.  She went into deep mourning for forty years, wearing no other colour than black, though in the latter years with touches of white.

However, black was a traditional mourning colour in Ancient Rome (753BC – 476 AD), though the dark-coloured toga, or toga pulla, may have been any dark colour. In any case, it would have been a strong contrast to normal clothing, and an outward sign of mourning, worn to honour the dead. The mourning period of nine days ended with a feast.

The wearing of dark clothing to show sorrow and respect became an accepted tradition in Europe. For those who could not afford a complete set of dark clothes for a period of mourning, a black arm band was acceptable. It was usually worn on the left upper arm, closest to the heart.

Although Queen Victoria wore widow’s weeds for the rest of her life, she requested that her funeral should be white. Her body was dressed in her white wedding gown and veil, and her coffin was covered with a gold-embroidered white satin pall and was drawn by white horses. She also asked that the usual black drapes should be replaced with purple, a symbol both of mourning and imperial rank.

The majority of the crowd watching the procession wore black.

Though it is still customary for people to wear dark clothing at funerals, increasingly there are occasions when the family asks that bright colours or certain items should be worn, in celebration of the dead person’s life.

Grey Heron

 

Grey Heron (Ardea cinerea)

This photograph was taken a few years ago, through glass.

 Twice this afternoon, in the space of twenty minutes, a heron has flown down to land on the fence surrounding the pond. There are a couple of small fish in the pond, survivors, who knows how, of the big deportation of a few years ago. We suspect they proved to be tasty morsels for visiting herons, though some may have fallen prey to our local crows.

Herons eat a varied diet, including fish, rodents, amphibians, reptiles, and birds as large as wood pigeons. They have been observed using their yellow dagger-like beaks to stab large rats before drowning them and then swallowing them.

We have seen a couple of rats on the patio recently, so wonder if they are the current attraction for our visiting heron. Normally, rodents are dispatched by one or other of the cats, but it has been wet and chilly lately, so the cats have foresworn the great outdoors for the comfort of a cosy fire, human lap, or large dog.

Herons are such alert and wary birds that it is difficult to photograph them. The slightest movement causes them to take flight on their enormous wings to escape danger. Until I saw a dead heron stretched out on the grass at a friend’s house, I had not fully appreciated the sheer size of them – the largest are a metre tall, with a wingspan of almost two metres.

It passed me by

 

It passed me by

I came across an expression I’ve never heard before; this is not in itself unusual, but, since it’s been in use since the 1970s, I’m surprised not to have encountered it. Perhaps it’s because I’m neither Scottish nor Irish. Maybe some of you are familiar with it and possibly even have used it.

‘Has the cat died?’ or ‘Is your cat deid?’ are Scottish or Irish expressions used to mock someone wearing trousers that are too short, that is, well above the ankle.

‘Half-mast parallels’ is a phrase which amused me, and is another with which I’m unfamiliar. It refers to short, narrow trousers. Maybe they are considered to be at ‘half-mast,’ like flags that are lowered in mourning.

Another suggestion is that a person might raise their trouser legs to stop mice running up them, because the cats, being ‘deid,’ were not available to dispatch them.

A further explanation is that poor people could not afford to buy black arm bands, which were worn as a sign of mourning, so cut off the ends of old trousers.

Incidentally, when I was growing up, in the Dark Ages, it was not uncommon to see people, usually men, wearing black arm bands. The last time I saw anyone wearing them was at the late Queen’s funeral, when many of the attendant participants wore black bands on their left arms.  

It’s summer time!

 

It’s summer time!

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Ice-cream van by the River Ouse, York

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

 I know it must be because I’ve just heard an ice-cream van chiming its melodious siren song.

I’m amazed that ice-cream van owners and drivers still exist. Anyone can buy ice lollies and ice-cream at shopping outlets large or small, and yet, every year, like returning swallows and chiffchaffs, out trundle the clunky-looking vans, with their improbable names.

Sir Whippy, Mr Softee, and others are heard long before they appear. Do children still urge their parents to let them rush to the van with coins in their hot, little hands to buy a Flake or a Nobbly Bobbly, or even a slightly dull ice lolly?

Have parents become canny enough to trick their children? Do they tell them the jingle only plays when the van is empty of ice-cream confections? Perhaps they say it’s a warning to steer clear of strangers.

Ice-cream trucks are often hired for events like school fêtes, sporting events, children’s parties, wedding receptions. I wonder, though, how much demand there is ‘out of season.’

Ice-cream tricycles or bicycles are less commonly seen, but for someone wanting to set up in business, they can be an affordable option, starting at around £2,000. A second-hand van, properly equipped, will cost around £40,000 and a new one easily £20,000 more.

Underneath the arches, again

 

Underneath the arches, again

We have a winding path with three arches in our back garden. The original metal arches were replaced a few years ago. Two years ago, the third arch, furthest from the house, collapsed under the weight of evergreen climbers. We, or rather, Barry, replaced it.

Yesterday, there was an ominous crack as Barry attempted to straighten the sagging arch nearest the house and it slumped even further sideways. It hadn’t damaged the fence round the pond, fortunately, but it was beyond repair, so this morning it was removed. This wasn’t a task quickly accomplished, as the arch was supporting, or rather being supported by, a long-established rose, a vigorous evergreen honeysuckle and jasmine. The plants had to be stripped out first. They have been reduced to ground level and if they grow again, and they probably will, we shall keep them as shrubs if we can, which will be easier to control.

There was a robin singing extravagantly loudly as we worked, which was a delight. In the course of the work, we came across an empty bird’s nest. Any birds planning to use it again this spring will be sadly disappointed.

There is now a huge pile of branches waiting to be graunched into mulch. Over the years, our ground level has risen considerably, as we have added layers of mulch around the trees and shrubs.

Suddenly, the garden looks much bigger. Maybe we will reconsider the remaining arches and whether they, too, should be demolished. It would make garden maintenance easier and more straightforward, though possibly less interesting to the eye.