Just a quick one really, as today I've spent 12 hours on the last day of my shift, daydreaming stories while indeed making script notes in a naughty dark corner, thinking about Bafta accceptance speeches and whether I should write under (yet another) pseudonym.
How wants to be their own boring everyday selves, anyway?
Digress digress, fails to impress...so I was having a sneaky little water break at work today where if you spin out the supping, you can get as long as 60 seconds looking at the same bloody old episode of Top Gear on the Dave channel all the blobby engineers insist on watching all the blobby bloody day.
Today though, in the normally lifeless (even when full) canteen, a large moth was flapping like mad against the unopenable window. Life! Proper life! Showing some fight, not anaethetized into cortex death by Jeremy Clarkson. It flapped, it buzzed, it flew until exhausted, then after twitching its long pair of antennae, it began again, ignored by all the stem dead but me. I don't know moths at all, it was largish, unshowily marked in various browns and rather furry, but I was very glad I saw it, although I could do little for the poor fellow. I wonder if it ever found a way out?
We have had Pied Wagtails in the building before, but today there was a flock of them outside as I cycled home. I'm seeing either females or a lot of juveniles about at the moment, I'm guessing, rather rather boring grey heads. A flock of starlings chattered on a high fence, and everywhere there were rabbits, taking in a watery evening's sun before charging off away from my menacing presence into scraggy fields of grass and ragwort.