Friday, May 01, 2009
wagtail, shadows, weekend
Pied wagtails (this one posed at Groombridge Place) are the prettiest of birds, which please, not least, by their swooping flight.
As I sit on a bench outside the chemist in Mount Pleasant, the shadows of the plane tree leaves above my head are waving and quivering on the pavement at my feet.
"Have a good weekend," people still say to me sometimes. And it is with a mixture of regret and pleasure, when, as someone says it to me this morning, I realize that "weekend" means very little to a person, who does not occupy himself during the week with anything that he does not do at the weekend. Those 14 hour-days of commuting and meetings, correspondence and telephone calls, had the merit , I suppose, of giving a meaning to "weekend", just as walking easily, gives a meaning to recovery after suffering from a broken ankle.