Took a ride out in the sun, passing through Seething and cycled along Biggott Lane, Spong Lane and passing by Big Back Lane. Norfolk’s history writ in its place names.
Daffodils in full bloom, a deer startled, ran this way and that before switching fields by suddenly darting across the road and then disappearing through a line of oak trees. A herd of cows and their calves steaming in a huge barn. The smell of damp turf. The sound of a lawn mower. Cricket fields with sight screens waiting for the coming summer. A buzzard’s cry, a couple searching for a bullfinch through binoculars, woodpeckers knocking and more skylarks singing – always the skylarks.
The lumps and hollows of Mousehold Heath, with some gorse in bloom and robins singing, while blue tits whizzed back and forth in easy sight, were chock-a-block with citizens walking their dogs and children on a blustery, humid day. The Sun was out and it was a joy to feel the warmth of it through the back of my coat.
Daffodils are about to burst open. Two or three of the shoots were already unfurling the first yellow petals down by Bishop’s Bridge. The river bank there will be flooded with yellow in a few days.
The allotments were busy with the plot holders doing early spring work. The allotments I passed today have a wonderful aspect, facing south-west over the city. They must be highly sought after.
Woken by the first alarm calls at territorial intrusions, alerts and disputes of airspace and protection of nests at 04:45h.
Then disturbed again at 05:17h by shouting from a distant street. A man’s raised voice echoes through the break of day. Again from closer at 05:32, yet still a way from here. Is he heard by others? What ails him? It sounds like anger.
Is he wandering the city alone? Is someone else at risk? How did this start? How will it end, as it must?