The plan was to head for the hills and spend the day wearing myself out on the ridges of the Marlborough Downs. On the way I took it into my head to investigate a corner of the local countryside I'd never strayed into before. The grass was incredibly thick. The blades were almost six feet long, though not standing upright, growing sideways in thick layers of the stuff. I've never seen anything like that in England before.

After ten minutes of wading through that lot, I was knackered. It was like wading through syrup. Worst of all, I felt a twinge from an old injury. That had happened when I was out hiking once before. Descending a plank-reinforced stairway in a local wood, I slipped and stretched my right leg pretty badly. I'd been unable to walk for five minutes and at the time I was wondering how I was going to get out that predicament. Even today, there's an area of my leg that remains numb although the muscle works well enough.

With the weight of my pack very much in mind I decided a long climb onto the Downs was asking a bit much. Discretion is the better part of valour, so it was back home. It took longer than ten minutes.

Foiled Again

Since the dawn of time (I love that phrase) we humans have observed astronomical phenomena and wondered at its mysterious magic. There are times when the night sky is such a seductive canvas upon which nature has prepared a masterpiee for us. I've always had an interest in cosmology and for me being able to see these things happen is something I long for. However, time and again I hear of these things after the event. Or, more usually, the weather is lousy and observation is pointless. Some years back we had a full eclipse of the sun, a very rare event in Britain, and the whole thing was masked by cloud.

Last night it was the return of the Perseids, fragments of a comets tail burning up as it enters Earths atmosphere. And as expected the skies of southern England were obscured by grey clag. Foiled again.