I'd had enough and set off on a slow road to somewhere. Coffee first, and only my second stop in a cafe since lockdown. I didn't take the outside option as it was overcast but next time..
Next stop Stiffkey, and still a little dull. But when I opened the charabanc door I was bombed by a squadron of scything screaming sickle wind swifts. Joyous things aren't they? They spend their lives on the wing, with their almost useless tiny feet meaning a downing is surely fatal.
The hawking carried on round our heads as we socially distanced on the bridge and commented.
I spotted a solitary brownie tucked right in close to this dream house on the Stiffkey River. Imagine living there. And more so being able to afford to do so.
Next stop after the fleshpots of Wells next the Sea (which it isn't anymore) was Burnham Overy Staithe. What a lovely place to paddle with the kids at low tide, and yes another sweeping pass by excited swifts.
The coastal the road is fairly sweeping and twisty but the Mill over the Burn is on an acute dog leg, with just a small pull off. Only slightly inconveniencing the Chelsea Tractors drivers, as keen as I on taking the slow road. Only a shortish lens a(18-55 mm and no CPL so no decent pics of the resident troot. Or an aural record of yet more swifts.
A heavily cropped attempt
Last stop now deep into Boden Brayers territory and swallows had out-muscled the swifts it seemed, swooping round our be-masked fizziogs in the lean-to fruit and vegetables stall.
A short after chores bash on Golden Pond helped the healing process, and although ginger beer was taken, none of the three hooked fish graced the stink net which was a shame as it might have been a bream, tench and mudpig occasion.
But swifts when I unloaded the charabanc. And wine.
Next stop Stiffkey, and still a little dull. But when I opened the charabanc door I was bombed by a squadron of scything screaming sickle wind swifts. Joyous things aren't they? They spend their lives on the wing, with their almost useless tiny feet meaning a downing is surely fatal.
The hawking carried on round our heads as we socially distanced on the bridge and commented.
I spotted a solitary brownie tucked right in close to this dream house on the Stiffkey River. Imagine living there. And more so being able to afford to do so.
Next stop after the fleshpots of Wells next the Sea (which it isn't anymore) was Burnham Overy Staithe. What a lovely place to paddle with the kids at low tide, and yes another sweeping pass by excited swifts.
The coastal the road is fairly sweeping and twisty but the Mill over the Burn is on an acute dog leg, with just a small pull off. Only slightly inconveniencing the Chelsea Tractors drivers, as keen as I on taking the slow road. Only a shortish lens a(18-55 mm and no CPL so no decent pics of the resident troot. Or an aural record of yet more swifts.
A heavily cropped attempt
Last stop now deep into Boden Brayers territory and swallows had out-muscled the swifts it seemed, swooping round our be-masked fizziogs in the lean-to fruit and vegetables stall.
A short after chores bash on Golden Pond helped the healing process, and although ginger beer was taken, none of the three hooked fish graced the stink net which was a shame as it might have been a bream, tench and mudpig occasion.
But swifts when I unloaded the charabanc. And wine.
No comments:
Post a Comment