A week that started with flitting (in the bat sense, not the Scottish sense). Like a tea tray in the sky, the sight of a bat gladdens the heart simply through its unexpectedness, even though we know they are bound to be in the vicinity somewhere. (Merely one letter away, the rat provokes a different response ...) There are 18 species of bat in the UK, bless their little furry socks, but I don't know how you can tell them apart if all you see is their strobe-effect silhouette against a dusky sky. Melancholy attaches itself to the delight, though. When I was little I could hear bats as they darted around me. Sadly no longer. The white noise of tinnitus has replaced that particular high-pitched source of information. I am the poorer for it.
So to ash. Ash dieback is inescapable this spring. It has been evident locally for a few years if one was to look for it, but now mature trees are just struggling to come into leaf. There has been mass felling along certain stretches of road. It is horrible to witness, even though I have been anticipating and shouting about it for the past five years or so.
When the oak's before the ash, you will be in for a splash.
When the ash's before the oak, you will be in for a soak.
No bloody use now, is it, traditional saying?
(For Gen X readers: is "the oak and the elm and the beech and the ash" declaimed in a Forest of Dean accent, imprinted forcibly onto your brain, or is it just me? [Obvs, elm is long gone, save for a few Dutch-elm-disease-free outposts such as Sheffield and Brighton, so very few people know what an elm tree actually looks like.])
In a somewhat different vein; London Pub Reviews. Oh. Wow. Please do give it a whirl. You need to know what Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese and the Harringay Arms have in store. I find it hard to believe that this was not written for Tim Key, so perfect is he for the role of 'reviewer', but it seems this joy existed in book form before podcasts were even a thing.
Which leads me nicely on to an adjacent sphere; being supportive of artists of whom you have no knowledge except their public face ... (how could you have anything more?) Austin Kleon, of course, has advice on supporting artists you love, but this was written pre-#MeToo so, huh. Tricky. E.g. Tim Key projects 'odd-but-trustworthy'. I have no way of testing whether this is accurate or not, but am willing to go with it. On the other hand, I had literally just started to follow James Veitch the comedian on Twitter, and liked a couple of his bon mots, when ghastly things began to emerge about him. Hilariously, I had noticed him in particular because it was a James Veitch (not the same one, ffs) that had forcibly tried to stick his hand inside my knickers whilst on the bus for a school trip to Cambridge. Oh how we laughed as I physically fought him off. (Naturally, girls were not allowed to wear trousers in those times.) In the lifetime before 2017, no question was raised about the real-world behaviour of someone in the public eye. It shows how far we have come that now this is the default first mental hurdle to overcome in any form of endorsement or online approbation; 'but what if he's a predator?' How grim is that?
Aaaanyway. Today's motto is You Are Here. Make of it what you will. Yes, that is Joe Lycett in guardian angel form.
I would like to state for the record that I am not a heart-y sort of person.
Reader poll of the week – Jackdaw down the chimney: portent of doom, or evidence that corvids are not as smart as they like to make out?
Keep hanging on by your fingernails.
Tot straks!
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