Mouse ears, what mouse ears?

If you lie on your side you will see that these are NOT mouse ears, although I thought they were. Their common name is ‘thunder flower’ on account of the historical belief that if you picked them you would promote thunder and lightning! I have spent three hours, cleaned the fridge and wept trying to turn the picture round. In the end it’s too big for its own good but still its better than nothing. If you lie horizontally Poppy Pee Wee you can peruse it at your leisure.
This morning I saw 8 cows. Comprising 5 mamma cows, 2, calves and a young heifer. Lying golden brown in the grass.
Then 2 yapping dogs.
1 squirrel and 1 snake, a little worse for wear, a car had mistaken it for a fan belt.
3 horses grazing.
A big furry Alsation dog.
2 horses stabled.
1 cyclist who beamed a noisy ‘Good morning’ as he pedalled up the hill that I was struggling with. His leg muscles looked like my pericardium felt.
1 horse a clopping. If you chant ‘She’ll be coming round the mountain’ often enough that was the rhythm of the horses hooves. Until he delivered a sack load of manure. If I had had a shovel I would have collected the manure if I had a sack.
The horse clippety clopped into the distance and a beautiful little brown butterfly fluttered by.
Apart from the polyphony of bird song the only sound around was my heavy breathing and the slapping of my rubber trainers on the road.
A new ditch has been dug to let out the stagnant water and hopefully the frog will spawn again next year.
A by product of fridge cleaning is that I’m using up the old veg. Making watercress soup with bok choi, bottle gourde, coriander, garlic and onions, including big bunch of watercress, so technically it’s a soup with a bit of this and a bit of that but mostly a bit of watercress.
I made a cafetiere of coffee that was so disgusting I had to pour it down the sink. Shame i was really looking forward to it.
Last night God’sGift drove us into Stratford. Not the one where the Bard was born but the one where the Bart of the Lionel variety was born. Mind you trying to get into the central car park took as long as if we’d driven to Warwickshire.
The Theatre Royal, Stratford East where Joan Littlewood worked and gave us ‘Oh What a Lovely War’ was staging ‘Fings Aint Wot they Used to Be’, and Oh what lovely night it was.
Sitting underneath me was Barbara Windsor, Tracy Bennett to the right of me, Cameron Mackintosh to the left, whilst I was stuck in the middle with the old git and Paul O’Grady who whistled and whooped whilst I sat and enjoyed Jesse Wallace, Gary Kemp and a cast of enthusiastic belters. We all enjoyed it enough to hug each other and declare undying love to each other.
Neither us nor Mr. O’Grady stayed for the lavish feast that had been laid on for the press, he had to leave for a Julie Andrews interview whilst we had to leave for a packed Wednesday.
It wasn’t the slickest of productions but it was warm, fun and so big hearted there wasn’t a person left sitting at the curtain call. Go, go, go and support them if you can. They are going on tour so you’ll probably catch it in a theatre near you.
The drive home was nearly as bad as the parking fiasco, why team GB has to mend the roads at night sending us on a 20 mile detour I will never know. Yes mend the roads, but have two teams and do it when people are really tucked up in their beds.
Watched the next episode of HAPPY VALLEY. The armchair took a gripping, it was directed by Ms Wainwright who wrote it. Blimey but she’s good.
Bed at three with a new mosquito bite. Then up for me constitutional.
I decided this morning to concentrate on the animals, day before flowers. I don’t know what I’ll think about tomorrow….. the elections?
I’ve already made my decision, maybe I’ll just wait for the muse to hit me…..