Swan

Kit and my dad and I were talking about a swan who was injured on the Cam.

My dad: So what happened to the swan?

Marn: I heard the RSPB took him to a rehabilitation place in Norfolk until he was better, but he's back in Cambridge now. They said they hoped he'd find his wife again and settle down-- you know they mate for life. I was just imagining the conversation, though. "Where have you BEEN all this time?" "Er, Norfolk." "A likely story!"

My dad: "I can smell birdseed on your breath!"

Kit: "And is that a feather on your shoulder?"

South Country

Today I am thinking about Hilaire Belloc's love-song to Sussex.

When I am living in the Midlands
That are sodden and unkind,
I light my lamp in the evening:
My work is left behind;
And the great hills of the South Country
Come back into my mind.

The great hills of the South Country
They stand along the sea;
And it's there walking in the high woods
That I could wish to be,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Walking along with me.

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I will gather and carefully make my friends
Of the men of the Sussex Weald;
They watch the stars from silent folds,
They stiffly plough the field.
By them and the God of the South Country
My poor soul shall be healed.

If I ever become a rich man,
Or if ever I grow to be old,
I will build a house with deep thatch
To shelter me from the cold,
And there shall the Sussex songs be sung
And the story of Sussex told.

I will hold my house in the high wood
Within a walk of the sea,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Shall sit and drink with me.