Tag Archives: perfection

More Trivial Drifting

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My last post was, from one point of view, a perfect post. When I finished, it had exactly 333 words. I love it when that happens. That was why I didn’t add anything to tell you what the photos were, and why I removed the captions from them.

OK, from another point of view, it’s not perfect and I am displaying a worrying tendency towards terminal eccentricity. Or, if you believe in that sort of thing, it’s the number of the economy-sized beast.

At the time I finished it and noticed the 333 it also occurred to me that it would make a good subject for the next post. Or “this post” as it now is.

I was going to say that the last post was like a bubble floating in the sky, shimmering with iridescent colours in the spring sunshine, but add one more thing and POP! the bubble is gone forever. Such is the perfection of a 333 word blog post.

Guinea fowl – good guards – they warn of intruders and foxes. In France they are farmed for food but in UK they are not so popular.

Or Antarctica. I cringe every time Joanna Lumley‘s voice comes on TV advertising those cruises where you can go and plant your carbon footprint on the crisp, clean continent. I’m always surprised by celebrities that promote one thing (like animal rights in her case) but are still happy to take money to promote the cause of global warming.

She once stood in a cage outside Parliament to show the life of a battery hen. I wrote to the paper that ran the story asking if they could get her to pose for the equivalent life of a free range hen – ankle deep in freezing mud on a cold November day. They didn’t even reply . . .

Goose and Goslings. Traditional Christmas bird before turkey became popular.

Today’s pictures show the lives of free range poultry on the farm. The cockerel in the top picture was taken by a fox. The guinea fowl were made homeless when their roosting trees were cut down by the farmer wanting to clear an area to apply for planning permission and eventually all taken by foxes or run over (they have no road sense) and at least one goose died after a savage attack by a bullying gander. Not saying they would have been better in cages, just that life on the range can be unpleasant too.

I’ve added the culinary notes to remind you that farmers don’t keep pets.

 

 

 

The Christmas Letter

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I’ve always resisted the temptation to write a letter to go with the few Christmas cards I send because there’s a fine line between sending news and showing off. Whereas I tend to write a warts and all version of my year when I’m blogging, the Christmas Letter always seems to be full of perfection.

Here’s mine. It’s an antidote to sweetness and perfection, a sort of Christmas Anti-Letter. I have used a different colour to indicate it should be read with your tongue in your cheek.

Dear All,

Last year we had a wonderful Christmas in Suffolk. Sadly it has all gone downhill since then.

The children, whilst not particularly successful or good at anything, unlike the children of everyone I know, are both planning on going travelling in Spring. Unfortunately, they are both planning on coming back, but it’s a start.

I suppose this is due to poor parenting so, as usual, I will get the blame. It has always been the same – It’s the same the whole world over It’s the poor what gets the blame It’s the rich what gets the pleasure Ain’t it all a bloomin’ shame? as the song says.

Julia continues to suffer from being married to an idiot. I can’t help thinking she could emulate the Spartans and suffer in silence but she seems to disagree. She shows too much interest in the plots of Poirot for my liking but in the absence of readily available household poisons (unlike the house and garden of the 1930s) I am still quite healthy. She did, however, look at the possibility of visiting the Poison Garden at Anwick Castle last year.

I wasn’t too keen on that.

That’s about it. If I wanted people to know more about what I’m doing I’d write more often.

We’re having turkey sandwiches with mayonaisse, cranberry and stuffing on Boxing Day. It’s the best bit of the year.

All the best,

Simon

Mistletoe from eBay

Mistletoe from eBay

With any luck that should stop people sending me appalling upbeat letters.

Bah, humbug!

Sorry about the repeated picture – I only have one Christmas photo.

 

 

 

 

More from Rufford Abbey

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Still catching up from yesterday. A mysterious glitch seemed to stop the photos loading, whilst still allowing me to upload the post. As I’m trying to post every day, it left me, at quarter to midnight, with the choice of posting something imperfect or posting nothing. That isn’t say that I don’t post imperfect pieces all the time (they are all capable of improvement) but yesterday’s was far from finished.

Dove at Rufford Abbey
Wood Pigeon at Rufford CP
Greylag/Domestic Goose cross at Rufford Abbey
Coot and nest on the Lake at Rufford Abbey
Canada Goose at Rufford CP

This post will mark my 70th consecutive day. It’s not much compared to the magnificent achievements of some people but it’s a considerable one for a man of my disorganised personal habits. The only fly in the ointment is that some days I know I’m writing rubbish just to tick off another day. I didn’t set out to be a blogger of great dignity and importance, but I do have standards, even if they are low.

I’m going to continue with daily posts as long as I can, but I’m going to improve the quality. Er…

Yes, exactly. What is quality in blogging?

I’m not sure. I tend to like the ones about people of a certain age who do a bit of pottering, and I also like the ones about nature, which could be because that’s a description of me and my life. In fiction terms I suppose you could say I’m looking for something character-driven. Or you could say I’m nosey. (I’m the sort of person who enjoys railway journeys because you can look into people’s back gardens).

I suppose I’m not really talking about quality, but more about what engages readers and makes for a popular blog. Quality, which tends to make me think about seriousness and maturity, is probably not the exact word to use.

What does anyone else think?

So, back to Rufford Abbey.

The first thing we found was that a bottle of gooseberry vinegar that emptied itself on the back seat of the car (where my jacket was conveniently placed to soak it up and save the upholstery).

We had a look at the lake, which seemed less populated than usual. I suppose they are all off doing spring things. Apart from the Great Crested Grebes. I’m sure they should be exhibiting some interesting courtship behavior but all they did was sit there and float.

I nearly managed a video of courting grebes two weeks ago but they didn’t try very hard and it just looked like two birds flapping. My attempted video of two Robins fighting wasn’t usable as they were both quick and in cover, though today’s Robin photo shows one of the combatants  perching with its tail cocked as it keeps an eye on the interloper.

Coal Tit in the woods at Rufford Abbey
Robin – Ready for Action
Great Tit in the Woods at Rufford Abbey

Julia spotted the Kingfisher, which I missed completely, and we both saw a pair of nuthatches, a Marsh Tit and several Wrens, which also all eluded the camera. I did manage to get a shot of a Coal Tit and the Ice House. Ice Houses tend not to move when you take photographs.

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