Here is something I read yesterday, or perhaps the day before:
“Wildfire warning signs normally seen in the parched Australian outback have been installed on English moorland for the first time. In a stark illustration of the worsening impact of the climate emergency, signs have been put up in the Peak District and south Pennines, where there have been more than 30 moorland fires since March. It is part of efforts by rangers and volunteers to prevent discarded cigarettes, campfires and barbecues from sparking more fires during the prolonged warm and dry weather.”
Last night I went to sleep with the rhythm of rain on the roof. Goodbye, Summer! It was nice seeing you. It wasn’t actually raining when I went out first thing and so far ot hasn’t rained since, but more is forecast. And the puddles are back along the paths where I walk and run.
It’s very dull day but there are huge poppies, opium poppies I always think they might be, flowering in a garden up the road.
Phil and I commented the other day that around here the wild poppies are all yellow or orange. My Spanish sister also noticed it once when she was here. Like me she remembers wild poppies in our Southport garden, always red ones. Poppies should be red, she told me. Well, today I saw wild red poppies in the wild flower bed outside our local Tesco.
I went on, at some length, about notebooks yesterday. In Saturday’s Guardian they have a feature they call Blind Date, where they set a couple up for a blind date in a restaurant and ask them a series of questions. One of these is always: “Best thing about …?” One of today’s participants replied to that question about her date:
“How full of life and genuinely interesting she is. I also found it really cool that she wrote things down in a notebook instead of her phone – it felt different, in a good way, and made me think I should maybe try that.”
People are often amazed when you make an actual written note, rather than a mobile phone note. Recently at the doctor’s the receptionist expressed astonishment at my possessing, and even using, a paper diary! Of course, you can lose a diary or notebook but they are not going to run out of battery on you at a crucial moment.
I heard that a young man was arrested on a Glasgow hospital because he went in armed with a crossbow. I wonder what he planned to do. In some countries it would have been a machine gun, I suppose. Maybe crossbows are easier to get hold of here. Here’s a bit of information about crossbows:
Under the Crossbows Act 1987, it is legal to buy a crossbow in England, Scotland and Wales, and owners are not required to register the weapon or hold a licence. Similar legislation covers Northern Ireland. However, it is illegal for under-18s to own or buy one, for under-21s to shoot one (unless under the supervision of someone older), for owners to rent or lend one to anyone else, or to shoot one in a public space, or in any private place without permission.
Proposals designed to tighten the law around crossbow sales were put forward by the government last month.
Personally, I can’t think why anyone would want to buy a crossbow unless they were involved in some kind of competitive sporting activity … or had some nefarious plans in mind. As a child my brother had one, a rather impressive toy, and we used to play William Tell, but we never shot apples off people!s heads. We were far too sensible. And now people can buy real ones. What a strange world we live in!
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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