Spring appears to have sprung. How long it will last remains to be seen. Tomorrow winter could return. That would not surprise me. But today I had a very pleasant cycle ride to the market in Uppermill.
The various flowers in our garden are confused by the weather. As is to be expected, the snowdrops are now past their best. They had their moment of glory, partly spent covered on snow, and now, having recovered briefly from being weighted down by all that snow, they are looking rather bedraggled. In the plant pot on the garden wall the hyacinths are seriously confused. It may be that the cold weather prevented them from growing to their usual height but they remain about one inch tall. However, their flowers are quite obviously there and and are indeed turning nicely blue + dark blue buds sticking up out of the soil. It is to be hoped that they put on a growth spurt before the flowers start to open fully!
I read that on a beach somewhere in Hampshire they found the body of a shark, quite a large creature, about 2 metres long. Experts say they think it is a smalltooth sand tiger shark, normally only be seen in warmer waters – and rarely anywhere north of the Bay of Biscay. They should ask my small grandson as he appears to know just about all the different kinds of shark and recognises them expertly. This is progress from the stage when he simply sang “baby shark, doo doo doo doo”.
Scientists believe the discovery can help them learn more about how the species develops and lives its life. Unfortunately before the historian Dan Snow, who was apparently one of the discoverers, was able to do nore than take photos of it trophy hunters had made off with bits of it. “The head, tail and fin were grabbed before I assembled a big enough team to drag it off the beach to the nearest road. We went to secure the shark for science last night. But we were too late,” he said on Twitter. He has appealed for the trophy hunters to return the bits and pieces, if only temporarily: “Please, please – if you have the head get in touch. The scientists want to have a look at it, and then it’s yours to keep.”
Collecting sea shells and bits of sea glass is one thing but hacking the head and tail and fin off a dead shark is a different thing altogether. I can think of nothing more gruesome - well, I probably can if I set my mind to it! What do these people plan to do with those bits of fishy flesh?
My friend Colin in Galicia wrote in his blog yesterday about the Spanish artist Sorolla. A friend and I discovered Sorolla in a museum/art gallery in Havana, Cuba, and fell in love with his work immediately. I was fortunate enough to be able to see an exhibition of his work in London some time later. It’s always worth looking at his paintings again, so here is a link.
Watching stuff on Netflix I have come to the conclusion that someone has decided that in the middle evening it is an aging demographic who should be targeted with advertising. The advert that brought me to this conclusion is one for the Co-op funeral service. The advert features a woman explaining that she has always loved dancing and wants people to dance at her funeral, in celebration of a life well-danced I suppose. Coincidentally I have come across a number of items about how dancing is good for us and lamenting the loss of places to go to dance.
A music journalist and writer, Emma Warren, has even written a book about it: Dance your way home. The publisher’s blurb reads: “This book is about the kind of ordinary dancing you and I might do in our kitchens when a favourite tune comes on. It's more than a social history: it's a set of interconnected histories of the overlooked places where dancing happens... Why do we dance? What does dancing tells us about ourselves, individually and collectively? And what can it do for us?”
It seems there has been a serious reduction in the number of clubs where people can go and dance. I must say that clubbing has never been my thing. Dancing in a hot, sweaty, enclosed space is not by idea of fun. However I have always enjoyed a good dance. As a teenager I used to go ice skating with a bunch of friends and finish off the night dancing into the small hours. Granddaughter Number One and I used to dance in the kitchen when she was small. I still dance in the kitchen, mostly on my own these days. This letter someone wrote to the Guardian newspaper expresses my feelings about dancing nicely:
“I couldn’t agree more with John Harris (In an isolated world, humans need to dance together more than ever – but we’re running out of places to do it, 19 March). I’m 67 and constantly moan about never having the chance to dance. Rare parties usually end in disappointment as the music’s never quite right for me. Nightclubs? Forget it. I’m in bed before they even open their doors. So every few months, in a local village hall, we organise an event called Chance2dance4charity.
My dance teacher provides the music, we bring refreshments and the proceeds are split between my favourite charity, Amnesty, and a different local charity each time. We dance for two hours to Motown, soul, rock, pop, reggae, bellydance, salsa – you name it. We have a whale of a time and are safely home by 10pm. And my favourite tracks are always on the playlist. Result.
Sue Bingham
Reading, Berkshire”
There you go. Keep on dancing!
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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