Blimey!, I have spent the day clearing a pond of Reedmace and I ache, I spent most of my energy [what little I had] ungluing my wellingtons from the smelly silt and retaining my balance. I am pleased to say I didn’t fall over. The cutting of reeds at the base of the stem is the most successful way of clearing them and limiting their return. The dense growth of reed reduces the waters ability to fill the pond so the clearing gradually began to let water flow back in as we worked our way through the rustling forest. The water also percolates up through the ground and soon what had been relatively dry area began to look like a significant wetland. Two beautiful large frogs paddled out of a small channel that lets water trickle down into the pond from the A428 that runs close by, they glistened in the sun and swam off in the rising water. One of the wildlife staff said frogs won’t be in water this time of year, tell that to the frogs. I have had a fantastic day, the aches will fade, I hope, but I’ll be keen once recovered to do it all again.

The sky is grey and the wind is blowing, I am tired from work and a little stressed. I have a habit of concentrating too hard on the negative and ignoring all the good stuff. I guess its a cliche but the simple things that happen are the most important, the ripples in the shadows, whispers and fruitful exchanges that get lost in the noise of life. Last week I was invited to spend a lunchtime with a group of people who are taking part in a self-help scheme to get them back to, or even in work for the first time. I was nervous, what might I have to offer, a fellow ‘volunteer’ remarked that I must be seen to be able to contribute as I had been asked, overcome with an increased sense of self doubt I trembled from head-to-toe. The session was approximately an hour and a half and involved having lunch and chatting and then performing mock interviews, I winged it, it was not dissimilar to my Drama A level, improvisation makes me feel excited and alive. Apparently I was fine, jibbering a little too much I think but the girls I interviewed certainly didn’t feedback ‘what a plonka!’. I came away feeling thoughtful, sad but hopeful. They were all so keen to get something happening in their lives, some will succeed and some will fail but I have respect for them for trying, I really hope employees can see the same qualities in them that to me were so apparent. I believe that as employed people we are still only a couple of steps short of the streets, of drug abuse and of failure and that we can be too quick to judge. Employment brings with it responsibility, not just to yourself or your family but to the community, it can bring a level of social responsibility that now I see is rarely met.

The wildlife photographer is in our garden again, sneaking through the undergrowth. I was sitting in the front room doing a spot of surfing when the birds of the garden erupted into panic mode, squealing and crowing, so I stood up to look out thinking the small black cat from up the drove was passing through. I was shocked and delighted to find, almost face-to-face, a beautiful red Muntjak staring back at me. She turned and bounced off across the garden. I found my camera and took this shot as she grazed without concern behind my overgrown veggie patch. Although some may choose to be negative about the arrival of such a munching machine in the domestic setting I am rather excited. This may prove to be premature joy and if she chooses to stay or revisit I may have to watch the destruction of plants I like, but is that a unreasonable price to pay, maybe not, we spent too much of our precious time being far too precious and should practice going with the flow.

Thanks web ed. for vanquishing web terror. Alt.p.

Today Labour quakes in its boots as shoe dynastys son, Edward Timpson, squeezes into the limelight and charmingly attempts to tip toe into the barely cold foot prints of legendary Gwennie Dunwoody. Nantwich’s historically conservative right and weary Creweites are predicted to turns their backs on Labour and the support that has seen them through many years of Thatcherism, and the darks ages of the late 1970s. Results are due this evening as this moderately sleepy borough raises its head in public, smells the wiff of political retoric and becomes the sign of things to follow.
Edward Timpson sniffs the political fumes of sleepy Nantwich.

A new category thanks to my technology patron and help desk guru… who is dragging me dazed and confused out of the last century and tempting me by way of an ibook into the future, and I must record for the blog the future feels rather pleasing.