Month: January 2012

January Small Stones # 18

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Bonjour mademoiselle

So thrilled this morning when at 8.15 I saw a small black lady waiting at the pelican crossing on a complex junction. She’s been missing for a few weeks you see and I was concerned for her well being. She always waits for the green light, but you never know do you? Because sometimes, when its rush hour drivers are tempted to dash on through. She cheers everyone up with her elegant and proud air as she looks both ways to double check, and she always takes her time. She is one of those ladies whose age is hard to determine, very well groomed. So today she was crossing my way and she looked up at me quite sweetly, I’m sure she was pleased to see me as well. We didn’t chat though; she took a right towards Magdalen while I headed on to work.

A bientot mademoiselle pussycat!

P.S for seriously good cat tails go here

http://www.isobelandcat.wordpress.com

 

January Small Stones # 17

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School’s In

The state school kids walk down the                            Independent school children slide

hill their uniforms ‘customized’ to                                from Range Rovers, Mercedes and

define their identity, identically                                    more, driven up the hill by a parent,

individual. Girls with ruler straight                              they wait patiently for the boot lid to

hair, darkly lined doe eyes and thick                            open automatically, thus saving the

foundation, pert breasts forced                                     energy it takes to lift it. Their

skywards under polo shirts with St                              discreet sports bags are smart and

Someone’s embroidered. Boys                                      unmarked. The senior boys look like

hiding school clothes under hoodies,                            daddy clones, in navy blazers, beige

pushing the boundaries of accepted                             chinos immaculately pressed, ties

footwear. Some of each gender                                      perfectly ordered around proud

brazenly taking the odd puff of fag.                              necks. Pink cheeked girls, knee

Boys shove their mobiles in their                                  length skirts, tidy hair and not a

back pocket; girls show theirs off                                  smudge of lippy anywhere. The

while they Facebook and tweet.                                    occasional middle nowhere voice of

Check out the street corners, you’ll                             mummy, ‘Darling, please don’t

see some Good Morning gropes.                                   forget the Humphrey-Pococks

Hugs or fights.                                                                  are dining tonight.’

January Small Stones # 16

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8am and the tiniest twinkle toed puppy is trotting along with its mummy. It’s probably a Christmas puppy on one of its very first walks and yet it is doing so well on its lead. I remember when Dido and Daisy were that size and their pads were as soft as velvet. They were summer puppies so didn’t have to put their tender paws on ground as cold as today.

This is D ‘n’D when they were that size, adorable aren’t they? This was their first walk on the beach and they were very excited but a little overwhelmed. I hope this mornings  little one soon went home for brekkie and a warm up.

Kite Surfing, Kite Rescued.

Posted on Posted in Devon, WritingTagged , , , , , 19 Comments

A mini adventure today! On the beach at Dawlish Warren where the waves were fierce, the sun bright, and the sharp wind made it barely tolerable. We had scrambled past the fifth groin when we saw some green things, one flapping on the next groin and another being taken in and out by the waves.

It soon became clear that it was kite related and I hurried to get a closer look and found that someone was trying to untangle it, and getting wet in the process. He managed to get it onto the sand but it was being blown in all directions and wanted to take him along for the ride. 

The two pieces were tangled together with a cobweb of line that wanted to weave around our legs so I helped to drag it up the beach. It fought back. The section I tried to control was about eighteen feet wide and I could distinguish it from a power kite by the air-filled sausage that wanted to render me horizontal.

Rescue man, being a lot stronger than me managed to locate the pully-outy thing to let the air out on his, which was bigger, then we restrained mine and I strangled it with its own lines. He hadn’t really worked out what sort of beast he’d subdued so I pointed a few miles across the estuary where a few kite surfers were still on the water out of Cockle Sands. We discussed what to do with it, he mentioned the words ‘salvage’ and ‘ebay’, I think he was joking, because he turned it round quickly when I said that I knew a tiny bit about the kiting community, because my daughter has power kites. I told him that I was fairly certain the owner could be found and hoped to God he was also in one piece.

Carrying our loads we headed back to the car park, deciding on the way that he would take it home for safekeeping. Because of his first reaction and knowing the kite’s value, part of me wanted to take it but he had got it out of the water so it didn’t feel right to take over. Instead I took his email address and said that I would do some detective work.

Back home I checked the internet forums, that I knew were out there, again because of my daughter, registered on a local site and posted a message to say it was found. Within an hour I got a reply from someone who knew the owner, a guy who had had to release his kit today while trying to help someone else who was in trouble. I’m really not surprised by that – it was very rough out there and the channel is known for its treacherous currents. Anyway the guy is okay and he will be reunited with his gear so all is well.

January Small Stones # 12

Posted on Posted in A River of Stones, Devon, January Small Stones, WritingTagged , , , , 12 Comments

A twenty foot section of hedge was lost today. Devon hedge, mainly elm but with hawthorn, blackthorn, red Campion, herb Robert, ivy and nettle. At its base there is stone and it must be very old. A hundred years ago it surrounded a field used for cricket, that wouldn’t have stopped the butterflies and bugs from living happily. It’s not the first section to be taken and I wonder when will it  stop?