And so moving swiftly on to things more tranquil ...
Beautiful birdsong here, and this was my view from the table when I was spoilt at lunch yesterday:
After my companion had got over his mortification at me taking photographs and not being generally as cool as him, we agreed that it was amazingly tranquil to be up that high. It was as if everything had stopped moving down below and even time had been suspended.
Then on the train home, I was reading from my lovely new edition of Virginia Woolf's Selected Essays, when I spotted this in the essay, Flying over London:
'Nearer and nearer we came together and had again the whole of civilization spread beneath us, silent, empty, like a demonstration made for our instruction; the river with the steamers that bring coal and iron; the churches, the factories, the railways. Nothing moved; nobody worked the machine, until in some field on the outskirts of London one saw a dot actually and certainly move. Though the dot was the size of a bluebottle and its movement minute, reason insisted that it was a horse and it was galloping, but all speed and size were so reduced that the speed of the horse seemed very, very slow, and its size miute. Now, however, there were often movements in the streets, as of sliding and stopping; and then gradually the vast creases of the stuff beneath began moving, and one saw in the creases millions of insects moving. In another second they became men, men of business in the heart of the white city buildings.'
And in any other business, I'm very pleased to say my website has now been updated. There's no guestbook, but if you visit and have any comments, I'd love to hear them.