Birdlip

I joined the Wednesday walkers once more today, after something of a gap. We met in the hotel car park at Birdlip, and walked out of the village past the cricket pavillion. The initials on its weathervane no doubt belong to one of the Birdlip Partridge family: some of them built the bungalow at the bottom of our garden, and once members of the family made up an entire cricket Eleven (so I read somewhere). Another possibility of course is that they refer to the celebrated wally Alan Gordon Partridge...

The walk criss-crossed a number of roads, but gave us a nice variety of scenery - a view over the Severn Vale to the Malvern Hills; a path through the majestic beeches of Witcombe Wood, before the flat bit at the end near Blacklains Farm. All new to me, I rather think.

I was disappointed not to say any orchids, even though we were on limestone grassland for some of the time. And come to think of it, not a single animal either.

A for America

People sometimes show surprise when I say that I usually only watch television for the football. But today wasn't a usual day: I had it on, and was watching, for the inauguration, perhaps encouraged by press reports that the new President's speech would only last for 17 minutes. I must say, for all its fine words, and I applauded in so many places, it seemed longer.

They do things differently in America. There's this curious informality - handshakes, backslapping etc. - combined with a ponderousness, a self-importance that detracts from the ostensible (and I'm sure genuine) intent. However welcome is The Change, yet there seems nothing more certain than that in this case desire will outmatch performance.

In contrast to the sub-zero temperatures in Washington, we had no frost last night in the Severn Vale. But up near Birdlip, where I went to walk the dog, there was ice galore. This is a photograph I took of a prescient puddle.