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Friday, February 20th, 2004 07:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
caddymanAs I was walking back up the road from Clapham North tube, I was struck by precisely what a flangeparrot nature can be.
As I believe I observed not yet a week past in this very forum, winter still sits damp, chill and heavy on the land. Maybe a touch less so in London than points north, but the drab grey of winter continues here, too. And with the dry Arctic blasts of the past two days from the north-east the point is reinforced.
The colours continue grey and washed out and the greens listless and drab. People scurry, coats wrapped and arms clasped as the wind cuts through them. Even young Norbert, the Bromfelde Road fox is silent at night, appearing but infrequently and with red eyes as if to say, "Spare change for a cup of tea, Squire?"
The trees are stark and lifeless - nary a bud yet to be seen. Spring is pressaged only by the huddled clusters of daffodils tentatively poking their yellow heads above the parapet that is the lawn outside the council flats on the corner.
It is cold and it is still winter.
SO WHY THE FEK IS THE CHERRY TREE AT THE END OF THE ROAD - NEMESIS TO MY SINUSES - COVERED IN BLOODY BLOSSOM AND COLOUR LIKE IT'S FEKKIN' CORONATION DAY?
Answer me that, why don'tcha? And pass me the chainsaw while you're at it.
Thank you and goodnight. I'm off to sneeze and snuffle.
Bastard pollen.
As I believe I observed not yet a week past in this very forum, winter still sits damp, chill and heavy on the land. Maybe a touch less so in London than points north, but the drab grey of winter continues here, too. And with the dry Arctic blasts of the past two days from the north-east the point is reinforced.
The colours continue grey and washed out and the greens listless and drab. People scurry, coats wrapped and arms clasped as the wind cuts through them. Even young Norbert, the Bromfelde Road fox is silent at night, appearing but infrequently and with red eyes as if to say, "Spare change for a cup of tea, Squire?"
The trees are stark and lifeless - nary a bud yet to be seen. Spring is pressaged only by the huddled clusters of daffodils tentatively poking their yellow heads above the parapet that is the lawn outside the council flats on the corner.
It is cold and it is still winter.
SO WHY THE FEK IS THE CHERRY TREE AT THE END OF THE ROAD - NEMESIS TO MY SINUSES - COVERED IN BLOODY BLOSSOM AND COLOUR LIKE IT'S FEKKIN' CORONATION DAY?
Answer me that, why don'tcha? And pass me the chainsaw while you're at it.
Thank you and goodnight. I'm off to sneeze and snuffle.
Bastard pollen.