Sunday
23rd 60-67F, windy with mixed skies, some sunshine and showers. A walk along the marsh to skirt the forest. As bright patches and shadows crossed the landscape. Then, finally, back across the harvested fields for a shortcut as the sky turned black with rain.
I saw several birds of prey, a hare, a pheasant and a small deer. Lots of swallows zooming about today. There must have been 100 flying around and around under one old, oak tree. Perhaps this season's crop of young are gathering before heading south in September?
The Scarpa Revolution boots are proving excellent on the rough surfaces on which I travel so often. Providing superb ankle support and comfort as my feet rock from side to side. Whether on heavily tufted grass, ridged and potholed gravel or raked fields alike. The only real downside, so far, is how quickly the suede looks "well lived in."
Perhaps that is better than looking new all the time? I do have my cult status to maintain as the only rural walker in the
country village. I had grown tired of being the only tricyclist on the planet. No matter how far I rode, or how often, I never [ever] saw another "sporting" tricyclist thrashing along as I do. Besides, it was so exhausting having to constantly reinvent symbolic gestures for crossing imaginary finish lines in assorted, village high streets. 😎
My new brake blocks have arrived. [Before breakfast on a Sunday no less!] The new front wheel will probably arrive tomorrow. Then it is onwards and upwards to ever greater personal triumphs on local hills. In the sure knowledge that I can now stop on the way back down. Without causing quite unnecessary juddering. For a while I tried to pretend it was anti-lock braking but even I was was not truly convinced.
Only in Denmark? Danish hairdressers were denied opening their salons by law for several months. They were modestly compensated for their lack of earnings with government grants. Then, when they were legally allowed to reopen their salons they had a voracious customer base badly in need of severe to total titivating. Both physical and mental, in equal measure, at this late stage of societal disruption. Or so one may well imagine. Can you even imagine the total absence of juicy gossip?
So, naturally, the hairdressers worked long hours. In a desperate attempt to catch up on the backlog of desert island, castaway impressionists. Now the Danish government insists the coiffurists have regained their losses and want their salon rescue funds back again.
Which strongly suggests not only an inherent meanness of spirit but also a latent desire to crush entrepreneurship. Not to mention a hatred of all and any willingness to work hard to satisfy demand. For a truly vital personal and public service. One which the politicooze consistently fail to achieve, for themselves, with each passing century. But hey, the latter aren't remotely qualified.
Meanwhile this hero, of his own legend, hasn't been to the hairdresser for literally ages. Every time that Haggard winces at the bathroom mirror I am confronted with the same, hideous castaway impression. I tried hard, for a while, to convince myself of a passing resemblance to a bearded Einstein. Perhaps caught upon sudden waking after a late night at the chalkboard? Though, I must hasten to add, this delusion only occurred if I closed one eye and left the hall light off. Which, of course, meant that this self-deceit was, almost inevitably, very short lived.
I now find myself leaning heavily towards a quick and dirty, DIY, short back and sides. I have the electric razor, cum hair-clipper, but lack that vital, steadiness of hand, or the will, to wield it efficiently under considerable duress. The Head Gardener would certainly berate me merely for entertaining the idea. Let alone carrying out the dastardly deed to my tonsure at such an advanced age. Notwithstanding the absence of a suitably long apprenticeship. Whereas I would argue that I have taught myself numerous unlikely skills over the long decades of near, abject poverty at my own hands. How difficult can it really be?
I only mention any of this because my cap, of choice, no longer finds my Neanderthal skull protuberance adequate to reliable retention in the recent gales. In fact, and I must blurt out here, that I have twice lost my cap, to unwanted lift, in recent days. Fortunately, on both occasions, the prevailing winds were veering more towards the verge. Rather than certain hat remodelling under the wheels of a hurtling vehicle in the middle of the adjoining asphalt.
Naturally I have tried adjusting the strap. This is, however, not a simple matter of girth but one of exact form. Or, rather, lack thereof. While I would hesitate to call my hairstyle a true Afro it is becoming more like a pompom with each passing day. Haircuts are just not the sort of thing you can hoard during a Jinping Pandemic. No matter one's obscene lack of morals or unlikely depth of pocket.
The old bonce still insists on sprouting new growth. With far more enthusiasm than is expected or even warranted at my age. If only one could arrange to fill in the missing gaps with this new found, hirsute splendour. Then I could probably wipe years, nay even decades, off my appearance.
Sadly this is almost never the case in the elderly. Tufts surround the naked bits with monotonous regularity. Like reeds in a salt marsh. You will just have to imagine a wrinkled bowling ball. Covered, at intervals, in glued on [badger] shaving brushes. Only then will you gain any semblance of the horror confronting our occasional, delivery drivers. Hence the cap. There being, otherwise, only ourselves to entertain in these difficult times.
Only in wealthy Denmark 2? Or rather three, in this case: Several Danes have found themselves so flush, to literally overflowing, with funds. That they have denied themselves the pleasure of donating £532 [equivalent] each to a charity of their own choice. Pretending instead that the rules [nay even laws of the land] pertaining to protection of the wider public from the hideous Jinping Pandemic do not apply to them [alone.]
All three refused to don masks in the environs of railway stations and were thus requested to correct this absence. In failing to do so and then two of them further failing to identify themselves to the police, their fines were suitably increased. 2400DKK = £290 for failure to don a mask. Plus a further 2000DKK = £242 for refusing to identify themselves. 4500 Danish Kroner in total = £532GBP or $712USD.
Don't you wish you were that filthy rich to just throw these sums of money down the drain? That much money would help to keep a soup kitchen going for a while. Or what about a useful donation to a woman's refuge?
Nah. Far too easy. Best to just throw it away to make the local headlines. Anything to feel really, really, really important for just one day. Instead of remaining utterly insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Much like a sociopathic, Wall Street Market Trader. Lighting a fat, Cuban cigar with $500USD notes. Just before being replaced by an anonymous algorithm. Which did a much better job in the end, than they ever did, on a guaranteed rising market. Until it [er-um] crashed! 🤣
Monday 31st 52F. Bright but rather cloudy. Expected to be a pleasant day as summer clings onto favourable, daytime temperatures. A pretty, wind brushed sky. It felt mild, even pleasantly warm in the sunshine. A farmer was struggling with rocks in the soil as he tried to plough. 
