It remains dust dry out there and some bird numbers are low but sunshine and warmth today but it all seem so much better and to cap it off I even saw the first Small Heath butterfly of this year.
On a different subject all together, Tuesday evening this week saw my long-time friend and I make what is now a bi-annual event, we went to London to experience Bob Dylan's latest visit. We first saw Bob at the Royal Albert Hall in 1966, hitch-hiking home through the night afterwards, and have seen him countless times since. Like us, he's getting old now, he's 75, but his Never Ending Tour continues to do just that and we, like a packed Wembley Arena on Tuesday, will continue to follow it as long it does. I'm always fascinated by those rare trips to London, because for someone who spends most of his life in the quiet backwaters of Sheppey, so much hustle and bustle always comes as a bit of a shock. You get off the train into a world of human ants, tightly packed and rushing everywhere and descend into the Underground. There humid and oppressive carriages are packed tightly with a kaleidoscope of nationals all governed it seems, by phones and ear pieces. Even more bizarre is the journey back, I find it hard to believe that so many people can be out and about on railway platforms at a time approaching midnight, more people than I normally see in a whole day.
Anyway, the concert was superb, I survived being temporarily swallowed up by an alien world and gratefully enjoyed the solitude of the marshes the next day.