Pictorial blethers

By blethers

Where's Gray's Elegy now?

When I was a pupil at school (I think I have to put it that way, having spent all my adult life in schools as well) I didn't like Gray's Elegy  at all. All that sentimental moping, I thought - not for me. I have to confess that it's still not the kind of writing I enjoy, but I do find I have more sympathy with the subject matter than I ever did as a 16 year old. It was not, however, the wish to speculate on some mute inglorious Milton that drew me to take today's photo, thereby inflicting still more bluebells on the waiting populace, but the chance to take the photo from this unusual viewpoint on the road - I had to hold the phone above my head while simultaneously poking it through the railings and putting my other hand through the next rail ... there was a strong possibility of dropping it. On the wrong side. 

So what musings prompted all this? Well, it was such a lovely day, and so unbelievably warm, that I felt I should have been more euphoric than I was by the time mid-afternoon arrived. I'd done enough washing first thing to use just about all my pegs, and certainly my whole whirligig; I'd written and posted a birthday card to a friend; I'd done several Italian lessons before lunch and provided some well-organised information for another friend. I'd even done a little more work on the talk I've to give in a couple of weeks. We'd had my spectacularly good Greek beans for lunch in the garden. And yet when it came to going out at the end of the afternoon I felt we'd nowhere we wanted to go - which is absurd.

As it turned out, we went back to Loch Striven and walked on another bit of its shores. It's a long loch. We were very hot at the turning point, so went down to sit on the beach where there was a little wind. I paddled - it was divine. A cuckoo cucked all the time we were sitting, and later willow warblers (I identified it on my app) and other birds got going with their teatime serenade. The air was still and warm - 24ºC at 6.40pm - and there were very few cars around. A red canoe with two people in it paddled gently over the flat calm, and the air was improbably scented with bluebells. 

And it was absolutely perfect. If I were Thomas Gray, this would be my moment to step aside into the churchyard of Inverchaolain church and write about it, but instead we came home for dinner. The church, by the way, has now been sold, but so far there is no sign of anything being done to it. Long may that continue.

On the way back, we passed a camper van parked, as it had been on Sunday, on the mown grass behind the shore at Toward. Again, they had driven through where there used to be a chain fence and had commandeered a public picnic table for themselves. We'd seen the police there yesterday, when the van wasn't. I think it's the sense of entitlement that gets me - I wouldn't think of driving my car there. I fear a summer of similar irritations...

The temperature in our bedroom is a whole 10 degrees higher than it was a week ago. Fahrenheit degrees, but all the same ...

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