That BBC list ...
SIX!!!!
Sorry, couldn't resist coming out of silence to say I think that's very sad.
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SIX!!!!
Sorry, couldn't resist coming out of silence to say I think that's very sad.


Around four o'clock the underwriter rang. He had just finished introducing himself when there came a knock on the door. Little old chap standing there with a carrier bag & inside it ... my bag! He explained that he'd seen it, picked it up to take to the police station but, seeing my driving licence, decided to hold on to it 'until I thought you'd be home from work'. I thanked him copiously and then explained what was happening to the rather bemused fellow on the other end of the telephone. Because of that, I went back in before I saw which house the rescuer went back to and I'd like to thank him properly. :o(
So: irreplaceable stuff has returned, along with the rest of the prodigal (and prodigious) junk, I have got my phone unblocked (although it isn't quite working yet) and cancelled the insurance claims. Thank goodness the locksmith hadn't got round! Pity I can't save the paper it will take sending out replacement cards.
Time to start half term holidays! Yay!
from outside my house - yes, the black one with the broken strap that you found on the way to work or school this morning.
I have now cancelled all of the cards, locked the phone & SIM, & made arrangements for the locks to be changed. This means that even if you now hand it into the police, or return it to me, it has already cost me the excess on my insurance policies and a morning's worth of peak time telephone conversations. Not to mention all the hassle of replacing everything else.
Enjoy spending the cash, do have a good nose through the notebook and that little packet with bookmarks and sticky labels in, but don't take the tablets/capsules in the pill box - they are POM and won't give you any sort of high.
I shall be spending the afternoon here, awaiting the locksmith and a return call from the underwriters, so shall probably make good use of the time to sort out some paperwork. However, my guest for half-term will have to spend money he can ill-afford (for of course, I have no access to any at the moment) on a taxi from the station, and the tasks I am leaving undone by not being at work will have an impact on my colleagues for a couple of weeks to come.
No matter what you decide to do with the bag and the bulk of its contents, please at least return the memorial cards for my parents. You know the address. Thank you.
The Back of the Book
The story is a picaresque saga about a motley band of rabbits who desert their ancient warren when the gentle Fiver predicts imminent destruction of all who remain. Led by Fiver's intelligent brother, Hazel, the refugees set out on an epic search for a new home.
What I thought
I remember that when I read this at school I thought it was OK and I did go to see the film, which scared my sister who had not read the book. In some ways I think of it as Lord of the Rings lite, maybe because of the introduction of an imaginary language alongside the plot, but it has a much more satisfactory and credible account of the journey home than has that epic - the balance of the sections is much better.
This time I noticed just how visual a book it is. Maybe because I have a far better knowledge of geography and landscape, or perhaps because I had the patience to read lyric sections like these, which I suspect 12-year-old-I skimmed, eager to get on with the story:
We take daylight for granted. But moonlight is another matter. It is inconstant. The full moon wanes and returns again. Clouds may obscure it to an extent which they cannot obscure daylight. Water is necessary to us, but a waterfall is not. Where it is to be found, it is something extra, a beautiful ornament. We need daylight and to that extent it is utilitarian, but moonlight we do not need. When it comes, it serves no necessity. It transforms. It falls upon the banks and the grass, separating one long blade from another; turning a drift of brown, frosted leaves from a single heap to innumerable, flashing fragnments; or glimmering lengthways along wet twigs as though light itself were ductile. Its long beams pour, white and sharp, between the trunks of trees, their clarity fading as they recede into the powdery, misty distance of beech-woods at night. In moonlight, two acres of coarse bent-grass, undulant and ankle-deep, tumbled and rough as a horse's mane, appear like a bay of waves, all shadowy troughs and hollows.The growth is so thick and matted that even the wind does not move it, but it is the moonlight that seems to confer stillness on it. We do not take moonlight for granted. It is like snow, or like the dew on a July morning. It does not reveal but changes what it covers.
Has someone yet set up a Watership Down trail? Or am I to content myself with the OS 1:25 000 map of the area to see what it is like now?
| S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
| 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |
| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
| 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 |
| 29 | 30 | 31 |