Sunday, No Sermon

Heriot’s slightly miraculous nature is confirmed by the most pleasant weekend I’ve had in a long while. We were woken by a fox in the back woods, making that awful teething baby sound; then by hedgehog, making that baby with croup sound. Still no sign of either the nasty thing in the woodshed that Sam saw when I was in Wigtown – and which, frankly, I think was brought on by a heady combination of codeine and white wine – nor the sound of “badgers shagging” – which, frankly, I think was brought on by the heady combination of codeine and white wine. The rough arc of the 48 hours after the alarum of nature roused up from our slumbers went: coffee with parents and Aged Grandparent; a bit of a mad dash around a supermarket; party at our friend Hannah’s (and, by chance, a meeting with Mark, through from Glasgow); a leisurely and moderately sober walk back from the bus to the cottage (where I was being an ass by turning off the torch and making badger shagging sounds until I stood in a load of horse gifts); sleep; breakfast; Church – with decent sermon about yet another bloody weird parable — Luke, the Widow and the Corrupt Judge: inexplicable in so many ways — wrote an article that would have been overdue tomorrow; a little light reading (Homa Katouzian’s The Persians, followed by Michael Moorcock’s Dottore Qui novel (sounds so much more avant-garde that way); a little light log chopping; cooking and firestarting. Most, however, of the day seemed to be spent watching birds at our bird feeder and then trying to figure out what the Blinking Moses they were using only a 1950s Observer Guide. I think we saw: blue tit, great tit, coal tit (this one is definite as one got into the porch and I rescued it, like a slightly speccy Francis of Assisi); nuthatch; wren; robin; chaffinch; female robin [this one was pretty confusing: I spent a long time being excited it might be something really rare]; hedge-sparrow and great spotted woodpecker. There was a thing that might be a twite as well, but that page has a black and white illustration so it’s a bit confusing. Reading the bird book made me quite annoyed that there are so many linguistically possible birds that don’t seem to have been created or evolved. I intend to keep a list of them and re-name any really dull birds. So far, I’m on the lookout for

  • a marsh puffin
  • a hedgepecker
  • a shrikeless lark
  • a sedge gannet and
  • a carrion tit

1 Comment

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One response to “Sunday, No Sermon

  1. I don’t think a carrion tit is a bird at all. I think it’s one of those films starring Sid James and Hattie Jacques, and most likely featuring a buxom Barbara Windsor too.

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