There has to be a beginning
We goes along the canal which is mostly calm and peaceful. The houseboats are starting to line the bank: collie dogs and terriers jump off as they moor and start chasing each other, there is a smell of bacon frying and the gentle sounds of a couple rowing over who did the most work at the locks..."If you can't cope now Sandra, how will you manage when we get to Birmingham?"
In the picture above, behind the row of trees, is my allotment. Waited 2 years for that to become available and then started the moving house process pretty much as soon as the paperwork was signed. Safe to say, not much has been done there yet bar sticking some membrane over the beds and strimming the wild patch.
But it is my long-awaited allotment on which I will grow raspberries and small fruit trees and flowers and you know, stuff. Plus, it's a 5 minute walk from the new house and is right next to the nature reserve as well as the canal. The reserve is rather splendid with orchids, foxes and badgers, slow worms and butterflies. There was a homeless man camping there for a little while but he seems to have gone now. I hope he has a house of his own too.
Then we go past the bus depot wall which has a pleasingly rusty, weather-worn surface. Eaten away by time and oxidisation (now isn't that a good word to say?), it's exactly the sort of wall that the Smiths would have posed in front of for an album cover before Morrissey became too, well, Morrissey.
So now, for the final stretch, I have This Charming Man playing in my head, looping the chorus over and over like a stuck piece of vinyl. Until I look up.
The duck has something important to tell you: "Pause the shouting, settle on down and let the good stuff roll over you."
At least, I'm sure that's what he would have told you if duck bills were engineered to say things like that. As it was I didn't ask, merely nodded and moved on after the shot, promising that this will be a blog free of nasty things. Let him contemplate all he surveyed while I crossed the bridge and made my way past Asda. Which is unphotogenic and nasty, so I didn't photograph that.
What I am reading this week: Case Histories by Kate Atkinson. There is a new Jackson Brodie book due out soon, so I'm rereading. The woman is juggling so many plots, it's making my head spin (in a good way) and there's nary a wobble in any of them.
What I'm watching: the Women's World Cup. Turns out I don't hate football after all.
What I'm listening to: The System Only Dreams in Darkness by The National. Earworm courtesy of the Boyfriend. Also watched the Stormzy set at Glastonbury. That was something else.
What I have been doing: yoga. Specifically a return to a proper class. It kicked my butt, oh me of "I've only got 15 mins, that'll do" home practise.