DOG

Had a v stressful morning on Sunday… don’t even want to remind myself of it by recapping events – suffice to say, all’s well that ends well.

So, in the afternoon at about 3.30, I went to lie in the Common in the sun for an hour or so, for fresh air and relaxation. Also to take my shoes off and feel the grass under my feet. I put my rug on the floor and dozed off in the sun straightaway. Some time passed and later on I became aware of the sound of a panting dog. It sounded as though it was panting in my ear. I didn’t really want to acknowledge this curious dog for fear it would start licking my face (I was flat out on the ground) so did my best to ignore it. But it didn’t go away. The sound of the panting dog did not get any quieter. Eventually I opened my eyes and sat up. In front of me was the cutest little dog I’ve ever seen with a tennis ball in its mouth. I don’t know much about dogs but I think it was some kind of terrier. Maybe a Jack Russell. Clearly, it had been waiting patiently for me to wake up and play. So I lobbed its tennis ball as far as I could (a feeble girly throw) and the dog scampered off to fetch it… it retrieved the ball and and then came running straight back to me. Immediately. We went through this throwing-and-retrieving the ball game a couple of times but then I started to wonder where its owners were. A woman was standing in the opposite part of the park to where I’d been throwing the ball. She was shouting “Abi!”, “Abeeeeeee!”. I thought this was the name of her daughter. Oops. Still, if she wanted the dog back immediately she should’ve come and retrieved it. I threw the ball in the right direction this time – ie towards the dog’s owner, and the dog didn’t come back this time. I don’t think the woman was very pleased.

Also, there used to be a long haired cat on the same street as me. This cat was about four different colours. Every time I left the house for work in the morning it would come bounding over the street to greet me. Sometimes it would circle my feet. At other times it would lie in front of me - on the pavement - rolling over on its back.

Which shows that you just can't generalise on the friendliness (or otherwise) of dogs and cats.

THE SECRET LIFE OF TREES

Not long ago, around the time of May Day, I commented on the ERECT flowers of the horse chestnut tree. I noticed at the weekend that they are now completely spent. Here, then, is a nice little feature from the Times.

Trees seem quiet and reposeful in midsummer, but the cycle of the year is gently moving on in them. On hazel tress the dangling yellow catkins that announced Spring are a distant memory and in their place are hardening green nuts, sitting in a green frill. But it will be two months before they are brown and ripe.

The winds have blown down more seeds from sycamore trees, and they lie like little green horseshoes on the ground beneath. There are many more left on the twigs and these are straightening out and looking more like propellors as they grow larger and harder. The flowers have fallen from horse chestnut trees and given way to small green conker shells in which the fruit is growing.

On oak and maple trees, fresh leaves are appearing at the tips of the twigs, some of them pink, some even bright red. Cow parsely has faded and the heads are turning to seed, but the lower leaves are adding fresh colour to the ditches as they turn purple. Hogweed is now the reigning umbrella-like flower of the roadsides.

SOLSTICE

What a treat – a full-moon-on-a-solstice day… . The last light of the day (rather than the first light of the moon) meant it wasn’t dark at 10.20pm. Wandered through the park with the land smelling leafy and earthy, the silhouette of a distant fox visible, and a warm breeze stirring in the trees. Best of all: the moon, as big and bright and full and low in the sky, as it could be.

I chatted about this at work with a very keen astronomer (shipping clerk by day; stargazer at night). He’s very knowledgeable and has Patrick Moore's home phone number. Sitting at his desk in an open plan office, he rotated a bright pink, “stress busting” toy pig (representing the moon) around a plastic globe of the earth. Much mirth among colleagues at this. Like a scene from The Office.

SHIFTY

In last weekend’s Observer, Kathryn Flett wrote that someone was, and I quote, “Shiftier than a shifty shiftworker about to start a double shift”.
I’m trying to think of more examples of this but can’t think of anything as good.
“Angrier than an angered angry person at an anger-management course”, perhaps.

DEPRESSING

I googled "Wandsworth Local Education Authority" yesterday, to find a telephone number. I needed to give them a quick ring to discuss forms for tuition fees. I was pretty depressed to see that "Foxtons Estate Agents" was the first result that Google returned for the search I had entered.

House prices rule the world, prop up the economy, preserve the status quo, determine your education, are socially divisive, and - through the drawing down of funds from propery in this country - serve to price people out of local markets across Europe as well. Well done politicians!

JEREMY CLARKSON

Apparently, Oxford Brookes University want to award Clarkson with an Honorary Degree. So, although I don't usually bother to sign Internet petitions, on this occasion I did.

This was the message that arrived in my in-box, sent by a friend: Jeremy Clarkson? Honorary Degree? No way! Please sign this petition. It takes 30 seconds and will make a positive statement for an inclusive, sustainable and caring world. Please follow this link: http://www.thePetitionSite.com/takeaction/760722683. The system centralizes signature collection to provide consolidated, useful reports for petition authors and targets. Please forward this email to others you believe share your concern.

Unfortunately, mixed up with the predominantly anti- messages there are a lot of pro-Clarkson people. Here is a selection of messages, including my own. (Hint, it's not the last one).

Jeremy Clarkson's career, beliefs and writing represent a dying past of car-dominated consumerist environmental vandalism. No matter how post-modern, ironic or publicity-seeking Oxford Brookes University seeks to be, such an appointment would be disaster for this institution.

Enginering is great, but it needs to be shaped in the right direction by us.

Naturally, a thinker of Clarkson's stature could only become an honorary fellow at one of the very finest seats of learning. Such as Oxford Brooks University... Why Oxford Brooks would want to give a degree to such a halfwit is a mystery. This reflects so very badly on them.

I don’t like anything he does.

Jeremy Clarkson promotes the message that motorists should have unfettered freedom to drive recklessly, that climate change and other environmental concerns are irrelevant, and that if cyclists and other vulnerable road users are concerned for their safety it is their fault for getting in his way. As such, he is deeply implicated in creating a culture of hostility towards all efforts to tackle the environmental, congestion, safety and community impacts of the car and to promote safe, healthy, neighbourhood-friendly and sustainable alternatives.

Jeremy Clarkson thinks he can mock MG Rover when he really doesn't have a clue what he is talking about. If MG Rover were so crap, why did Lotus and BMW use Rover technology in their cars?

Honorary Degrees should be for people who can inspire us. Clarkson is just a flippant idiot.

A Degree should be a reward for hard work and study. Not a freebee to help the university get some publicity.

This is a cheap publicity stunt for the University that only brings it in to disrepute. Clarkson has done nothing to justify this award and much to disqualify himself. His vendetta against MG Rover was a disgrace and did much damage to British engineering. As a Chartered Engineer I am appalled that Clarkson would be considered for such an honour.

Clarkson rocks! Clarkson deserves the Honorary Degree more than anyone else. When he drove the Discovery to the top of that mountain it made great viewing, so much so that I'm going to drive my Range Rover up it. Clarkson has strong views, but he's just confident and speaks what everyone else is thinking. You should all grow up.

THREE LIONS, TWO SCULPTORS, SAME STORY

There is a beautiful bridge in Budapest (the Szécheny), and at either end are two large reclining lions, carved from stone. In a municipal park in Reading there is a bronze statue of a prowling lion. Both sculptors are rumoured to have committed suicide for the same reason (anatomical inaccuracies - of their work, not of their own bodies I should point out). Here is a quick summary of each case:

The popular story says that the sculptor, János Marsalkó, who carved the stone lions committed suicide by throwing himself off the bridge after it was discovered that he had forgotten to carve tongues inside their slightly opened mouths and that they were therefore imperfect. It is a popular legend but there is no truth in it, however, as the lions do have tongues, though they are only visible from above.

[George Blackall-Simond] created the works for which he is best known in Reading. The Maiwand Lion in the Forbury Gardens celebrates the valiant last stand of the Royal Berkshire Regiment at the Battle of Maiwand in Afghanistan in 1880. A massive 31 feet long it is one of the world’s largest bronzes, taking two years to design and complete. Lord Wantage unveiled it in December 1886. According to urban legend, the sculptor of the lion got the stance of the legs wrong and a real lion would fall over. Realising his mistake after he creating it, Simond committed suicide. Recent investigation by staff at Reading Museum has revealed that Simonds’ work on lion anatomy was in fact correct, being based on the careful observation of real lions, not to mention the fact he actually had another forty-three years to live.

So, if you know any sculptors engaged in lion-carving projects, best take them to one side and have a quiet word to make sure everything’s okay. But, joking and coincidence aside, why do these rumours persist, I wonder? I’m sure everyone’s aware of one. The architect of the crooked spire church near Sheffield is a well-known example. Two obvious conclusions: there is something enduring about the notion of a tormented genius and something very comforting in the idea that even the very talented make mistakes. Also, for these myths to resonate, they must attach to the public ‘furniture’ of a town – common symbols that are in the collective consciousness of a people and hence, instantly recognisable. I think it would be a paper for a psychologist.

SU-DOKU

Last night I tried the new puzzle that’s been doing the rounds. It’s a grid divided into rows, columns and clusters. Clusters/rows/columns should all contain numerals 1 – 9. The puzzle I had was ‘medium’ difficulty… so, I got there in the end. As it’s the first one I’ve done it took some time to figure out shortcuts and strategies. I did the puzzle last thing, and didn’t turn the light out ‘til 12.45am.

One thing is clear: Su-Doku is not suitable for ‘winding down’. All through the night my brain was scanning imaginary columns and skimming horizontal lines. I think I dreamt about it, too, and woke at 4am feeling as though I hadn’t really lost consciousness. So-don’t do Su-Doku last thing at night