Up to Lincoln Arboreturn

Or rather "Up up up up, and then down a bit."

Lincoln is very very hilly. Anyone who has ever visited it will know that as well as being full of Steampunks, it is also full of hills, especially the very steep one upon which the cathedral sits, hence having the name of "Steep Hill."

Normally I only go to Lincoln for the cycle Grand Prix every May, but today, I just needed to visit, intrigued by the idea of visiting bits of it I'd never gone to before, particularly the big Arboretum park just down from the Cathedral.

So up I went, up busy cobbled streets, promising to ignore any shops or cafes I wanted to visit, up into the sky, Steep Rill rising before me like a ladder, past the bookshops, past the vintage shops, past the strange shop that sells aircraft altimeters, and thence finally with even my mighty legs achey, up to the top.

I then of course found I had to go back down a way to get the to Arboretum, going through some of the ancient arches that define this historic city.

I love urban open spaces. I always have. But for some reason, I found the Arboretum sterile, despite the blossom and birdson and mating mallards. THe maze was dull, the statues dull, the bandstand dull, and the ponds as so many are in ornamental gardens totally devoid of subsurface life.

There was no cafe either.

I just find well kept spaces totally unappealling. You've got to let them go a bit wild! I was just having no reaction to the space at all. Hear that Lincoln. Let your parks go wild!!!

I think I was having a bad day in my head as well, to be fair. Feeling a bit numb.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 11.03.17

Gulls in the Blue

Was out running the other day, a blue sky day albeit with a fair blow of wind. The gulls were loving it, high above the London Road Pond, presumably alerted by other gulls being drawn to an elderly couple making the ducks ill by throwing them bread.

Effortless flight for the distant dots.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 10.03.17

In the Dark of Night

I thought it might be fun to take out my new self illuminating hat out for a run in the dark, a mild night indeed. But, as was the idea, when I got off the lit streets it was a dark and mysterious one, and without much light, a suddenly damp and wet one when my feet went into an unseen puddle or patch of deep mud.

All adds to the fun and atmosphere though, enhanced as it was in my 6 Music cocoon, in a very narrow and short field of view, my own protection against the evil, although as it happened there wasn't any evil, and there wasn't any foxes or badgers like I'd hoped to find, mistaking me for one of their own.

Just a lot of dark, cool, quiet.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 09.03.17

At the Base of the Tree

We have lots of trees on my road, planted into paving slab sized squares of soil.

I love the little environments you get around the base of the tree, in particular these dense little carpets of tiny white flowers that grow amongst the mosses and dandelion.

It's a harsh world down there, polluted, noisy, sprayed with dog urine and heaven knows what other foulnesses. But yet, there is life. One can almost imagine the minuturised David Bellamy of "Bellamy's Backyard Safari" tearing around down there, being chased by centipedes.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 07.03.17

Glory in the Snow

It's not squill, it's glory in the snow!

Been suffering from this misapprehension for years!

Other newcomers seen today - shepherd's purse, coltsfoot and hyacinth.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 06.03.17

Spring is Getting Busier

Been a very busy week for me, getting the work big annual party organised - alright, helping organise it - and presenting a live raffle draw in a gold lame suit that made me feel like a boiling turkey.

But I have been able to get out and do a little running, and play a little cricket; my quick bowling improving by the day. Obviously running up and down my drive marking my run up and baffling the neighbours has helped.

We had a stunning day yesterday, not super warm but bright and spring like and hence a lot of buzzers came out of hiding to have a feed. A big queen buff tailed bumblebee was out searching for a home in my garden beneath the sycamores, and the crocuses were getting a lot of attention from honey bees and the odd drone fly.

I had a listen for chiff chaffs again, but no joy. A lot of great tits were singing their loud and very repetitive "Deeee-doooo" call. The nest boxes in the park will soon be getting busy.

A lovely day.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 05.03.17

Cricket is Terminal

I’m just hopelessly bad at it, the co-ordination beyond me, the reactions too slow and confused.

Yes I can bowl. That seems to be the case. Nasty dipping quickish inswingers, making the batsman clamp down on the ball just in the nick of time.

Some of the time. But it is better than being totally hopeless. I’m even getting a few nods of approval and grudging respect. I groan like a werewolf at the point of delivery, hot in the moment of the first bite or a powerful orgasm, and I feel vaguely sporting as much as stupid and embarrassed. But as a cricketer, our job is to entertain, in any way we can.

A better batsman than me in the act of hitting the bloody ball

Which seems as good a time as any to move onto my batting, this tangled limb feast of imbalance and limbic confusion, prompted by a sort of rising fear as I watch the ball in the bowler’s hand rise up into the delivery position, before whipping around in a circular blur to propel the little red sphere on a rapidly closing and possibly painful trajectory with my body, and less often, my bat.

There is no grace in this, but a lot of comedy. Willow seeks ball like an unattractive man trying to kiss a beautiful girl with his eyes closed; ball seeks balls like an precision missile. A hard plastic papal hat has protected my manhood, but most other parts of my body have been left with large purple and green bruises, marks of honour yes, but marks of shame too, a military damage map of incompetence that the stump high eleven year olds of the team are able to avoid.

No matter your class or education, the battle twixt bat and ball is a great leveller. Usually of my face, predictably, endlessly, into the dirt.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 02.03.17