Saturday 5th March 2022 - Well Timed, Road Train and Sid is Bored

In my last blog, I related cleaning the pond of weed and Peter constructing a moveable frame, well, our timing couldn’t have been more perfect because while we were attaching the mesh to the frame we spotted frog spawn (shown in today’s photo – the black bubbles to the right of the aquatic grass). Unlike Peter, ponds did not feature in my childhood and so last year was a first for me, when I was able to watch the development of the spawn into froglets. It was fascinating to observe and I am looking forward to once again seeing the various stages of metamorphism.

I have said before; the Belfry Centre for Music and Arts is the hub of the village. Recently they have added another ‘string to their bow’ by devoting a room for the installation of a recording studio for Poppyland Radio, and now they are serving as a drop off point for donations for the Ukranian refugees. The response has been immense and within days of launching the appeal, full capacity at The Belfry was reached. The donations will be taken via road train across to Europe and on to Poland and Bulgaria, where they will be distributed to those in need. Given the ongoing situation in Ukraine there will probably be more requests for donations. I try not to stray too far from Overstrand, in my blogs, but Russia, or more accurately Vladimir Putin and his cronies, sidekicks, call them what you will, are behind what has been described in today’s media reports as possibly building into the worst humanitarian crisis since World War Two. Doesn’t bear thinking about – does it?

Starting yesterday evening and continuing through this morning – it’s rained. No-one in our household wants to venture outdoors and get wet. Stuck inside, Sid our cat became bored and when Sid is bored mischief follows. This morning it started with him sitting on the back of the settee (not allowed). I tried to ignore his rule breaking but I could see in his eyes, more was to come, and it did. He hot pawed off, onto the back of my chair (not allowed), jumped down, shot across the floor, and somersaulted off the wall (not allowed) before heading round the back of a dining chair. I knew not to intervene when he then jumped up onto the sideboard (not allowed). Rather than skidding across the top, scattering picture frames and nic nacs etc., he delicately picked his way through the items (phew) and descended onto a wooden storage box, where his antics ceased. All is peaceful now; Sid is asleep under a radiator, basking in its warmth.