Dear Wood Warbler,
It’s Doris Day! I know that technically, this is bad (bridges shut, trains cancelled, trees crashing down on cars and people), but to be in it, walking to the park, the wind swooshing me all the way there, feels just wonderful.
The wind roars, leaves are scuttering along the pavement, alarms and sirens go off, bins fly across the street, but none of the wildlife looks particularly bothered. The deer in the park look only as nervous as usual, the blue tits and goldfinches flitter about as per, the coots are as deadpan and implacable as they always are, like members of a sinister security detail. The ruffian dogs have come into their own, racing along after the leaves. Only one dog, a tiny, froofy, Parisian looking creature looks bewildered – infact almost personally insulted – by the unusual weather.
How is Doris Day with you – and Fred?
Love,
London Pigeon
PS I loved reading about Larger Moths, and imagining the lovely, patient, careful life of the mysterious R.L.E.Ford. Recently my soothing book of choice has been My Family & Other Animals. There’s almost nothing better, when it’s dark and freezing outside, than being lulled by a description of a sunlit day wending through a reef on Gerald Durrell’s boat, the Bootle-Bumtrinket…
As the boat’s turtle-shaped shadow edged across the seabed, the multi-coloured, ever moving tapestry of sea life was unfolded. In the patches of silver sand the clams were stuck upright in small clusters, their mouths gaping. Sometimes, perched between the shell’s horny lips, here would be a tiny, pale ivory sea crab…
Dear Pigeon 