The climbing hydrangea…

Dear Readers, it’s been a busy old week, what with my final OU assignment, and the temperature at night has made it tricky to sleep, so I’ve been in a bit of a fug. But today it’s cooler, and I’ve nearly finished my schoolwork, so I popped outside just to see how things were getting on.

The climbing hydrangea has been magnificent this year, and such a source of pollen, which is all over the side return. Such interesting flowers!

It’s just a shame that it doesn’t last for long, but it will be a squirrel highway and source of tiny invertebrates for the birds.

My progress was watched with interest by this beady-eyed parakeet – he’s been visiting the suet feeder on his own, and has more or less unpicked the wire mesh on one of them, bless him.

And the wildflowers have arrived for the windowboxes that I make for the raffle at the East Finchley Festival – they should be splendid in a week or so.

And now it’s back to an analysis of the success (or otherwise) of Incredible Edibles, Todmorden. Wish me luck!

Well, Readers, we’ve been looking after Abbie, our fourteen year-old shy foster cat, for nearly two weeks now, and she’s certainly making progress! We’ve been leaving the door of ‘her’ room open so she can wander about and explore at leisure, and for the first two days she continued to hide behind the litter tray, though she did come out to say hello if I sat on the floor.

She sometimes seems desperate for attention, head-butting and miaowing, but as soon as she hears my husband move she’s off, and even though he’s the one who usually feeds her, her response to him is a hiss. We suspect that, as she’s lived with a single lady for most of her life, she’s probably not had much to do with men, but the hisses seem to be getting a little more half-hearted, so fingers crossed.

Then, a few days ago she wandered down to the living room while we were both watching television, and even came up on the sofa beside me. She gave John’s foot a sniff – he’s obviously less scary when sitting down – and then went back upstairs again.

She always comes in for a chat if I’m sitting on the loo. This seems to be a ‘cat thing’. If the door is ajar, she peers through the gap.

She really is a queen amongst cats, such a magnificent creature – she’s quite happy to be brushed (on her own terms) and her fur is silky-soft. Such a pretty girl!

In a week or so she needs her second vaccination and a bit of dental work, and then she’ll be up for adoption, so fingers crossed that she continues to make progress. She’ll be the perfect cat for someone with a quiet home, who likes an unassuming housemate.

Scene from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ by Edwin Landseer (1848)

Dear Readers, on Wednesday I was at The Globe for my third production of Midsummer Night’s Dream in six months. At least I’m hoping that Bottom doesn’t get shot, unlike the last version I saw at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse. It’s the right time of year for the play, for sure, though I hope the temperature will have dropped a little from the 32 degrees celsius when I’m writing this.

Samuel Pepys described MSND as ‘the most insipid ridiculous play I ever saw in my life’. Hopefully, I’ll be rather less dyspeptic about it, but only time (thyme) will tell. And here is a sample, just for you….

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight.
(Oberon, Act 2 Scene 1)

And also this, for my many small, fierce friends…

O, when she’s angry, she is keen and shrewd.
She was a vixen when she went to school,
And though she be but little, she is fierce.
(Helena, Act 3 Scene 2)

I shall report back later!

Dear Readers, I might have mentioned Postbox Toppers before – they are happening all over the country, wherever knitters and crocheters decide to adorn their local postbox with something commemorative, either of an event, or a season, or a person. You might have noticed that David Attenborough (the closest the UK has to a living secular saint in my opinion) was 100 years old recently, and so this topper, from Walthamstow in East London,  features the man himself plus 26 animals, the name of each one beginning with a different letter of the alphabet. What a treat!

There are lots of other postbox toppers commemorating  Sir David all over the UK, but this one will take some beating, I think. The makers are collecting donation on  behalf of Walthamstow Toy Library, so if you have any lose change jangling, you know what to do….

https://www.walthamstowtoylibrary.org/

I know, I know. We Brits are always complaining about something. But it is a trifle on the warm side when you have a final assignment to write, are getting over a throat infection and in addition have developed back ache. Harrumph. But it is lovely to see the sun, albeit from a distance through the window, and it does put me in mind of a few summer-related songs, so here are my favourites…

How about Ann Miller singing ‘It’s Too Darn Hot’ in a tasselled coral-coloured leotard? Ah, those were the days…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WS_YAKZH3lw.

And this is Ella Fitzgerald’s version. My goodness, her phrasing….what a star.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhs3Qklz5a0

And this is one of those great party songs from the 1980s…the Merry Men with ‘Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbc_LxfhSoY&list=RDrbc_LxfhSoY&start_radio=1

And the Lovin’ Spoonful with ‘Summer in the City’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YgevxRGXIU

And my absolute all time favourite. Just right for leaning back in a hammock with a gin and tonic.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T88fbHOmvRk

Stay cool, folks!

Oak Tree in Cherry Tree Wood

Dear Readers, there is an on-going arms race between plants and the creatures that eat them, that can involve everything from camouflage to chemical weaponry. However, scientists in at the University of Würzberg in Germany have discovered that oak trees that are badly infested with caterpillars in one year will delay opening their leaves by three days during the following year.

Caterpillar eggs are usually laid so that their hatching coincides with the newest, greenest leaves appearing – these are the most nutritious, and the easiest for those little jaws to munch. The scientists did an aerial survey of oak forests in 2019, during which time there was a dramatic infestation of gypsy moths, which caused extensive damage to many of the trees. It was found that the trees who had suffered the most drastically were the ones who delayed producing their leaves by three days in the following year, meaning that any caterpillars that hatched on them starved. This reduced leaf damage by some 55 percent.

While scientists agree that there’s a correlation between leaf opening time and caterpillar predation, it still hasn’t been proved that one causes the other – it could be that the delay is the result of the tree being weakened, rather than a precaution against future leaf loss. But  it’s certainly intriguing, and I look forward to future studies revealing more.

You can read the New Scientist article here.

The journal article is here.

Well, Readers, I’ve lived in London for most of my 66-and-a-bit years, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen Tower Bridge raised! I was sitting with my friend Robin (having a cocktail since you ask 🙂 ) when I noticed that the ‘superyacht’ that I’d seen moored beside HMS Belfast was making its way through the bridge. Very exciting!

The Star Pride had a tug at the front, and a tug at the back, and is apparently a ‘312 guest all-suite luxury motor yacht’, with a crew of 150. I was a bit puzzled when I looked at the pictures of the ship online, until I realised that she’s being towed backwards. I assume she did a three-point turn further up the Thames, where it’s a bit wider.

Now, I know that lots of people (including my Mum and Dad) loved going on cruises, and I’ve been on holidays that involved being on a smallish boat, but the threat of being stuck onboard during a Hantavirus/Covid/Norovirus outbreak does give me pause. Plus, supposing you were stuck with people you weren’t sympatico with? I’m not the world’s greatest one for small talk at the best of times. But it is a great way of visiting lots of different places if you’ve got the dosh, and, as this ship was en route to Norway, I imagine it could save you quite a bit of money in terms of food costs/transport costs.

Anyhow, you can read all about the Star Pride here, should the urge take you….

Dear Readers, on Tuesday my friend Robin and I took a walk around Chelsea to see some of the floral displays. Today I have a throat infection, fever and headache and am feeling pretty sorry for myself, but I am l9ving the flowers. See what you think, and let me know if you have a favourite! Part of me thinks it’s sad that the plants didn’t get to fulfill their full life cycle, but maybe I’m just being a curmudgeon.

Plane trees on East Finchley High Road

Dear Readers,  you might be thinking that I haven’t mentioned the Open University for a while. You might also have noticed that my blog posts have been a bit shorter just lately. Well, on 2nd June I submit my final report for my Biology/Environmental Science degree, and so I am rather snowed under at the moment, trying to wrestle my ideas to the ground.

Most of the final assignment is a report, and I chose to look at East Finchley street trees. I’m comparing their ‘ecobenefits’ (how much carbon they sequester, how much flooding they prevent, how much air pollution they absorb) with the amount of biodiversity that each species of tree supports, and believe me, it’s not easy. ‘Ecobenefits’ are easily quantified – there’s a tool called ‘i-Tree’ that calculates these things – and councils love them, because they put a value on each tree, and if there’s one thing people love, it’s being able to count something. Biodiversity is not: just because a tree species could host a particular fungus or insect doesn’t mean that it can do that in a city, and data is sadly lacking. Fortunately, there is just about enough to put something together, and I’ll post my results once the deadline for the report has passed.

I also have to do an essay on a sustainable food production method, so I’m choosing the ‘Incredible Edibles’ project that started in Todmorden and has spawned numerous other projects around the UK. It involved using public space such as flower beds to grow fruit and vegetables that anyone could harvest, or get involved in  growing. The nay-sayers suggested that it would be one lot of people doing the growing, and another lot stealing the produce, but this turned out not to be a big problem. Who knew? People are basically honest, and when enough people are involved in a project they will monitor it themselves.

At any rate, suffice to say that the next few weekends will see me working away, until on 2nd June I raise my head and rush blinking into freedom. I’ve been doing this for six years, so it will be something of  a shock, but I have plenty to do! Not least ridiculous quantities of theatre to see, and rather a large pile of books to read. Keep your fingers crossed, readers!

Brown sugar and coriander cake with honey-cream cheese topping and apricots…

Dear Readers, I have been working my way through a baking book (‘Sift – The Elements of Great Baking’ by Nicola Lamb) and this week I reached this cake. Well, it doesn’t look quite as professional as the one in the photo but boy does it taste good. The secret and mysterious ingredient is coriander seed (ground, of course) – it gives a strange citrussy, slightly sour note that really blends well with everything else. And that set me wondering if anyone had ever done a poem about coriander, and here we are. I love the way that this poem conjures up a whole person through scent and sound, without ever describing her appearance.

Auntie
Nadine Aisha Jassat

My Aunt’s hands are soft and brown
and they smell like cumin and coriander.
She is a gardener in the kitchen.

Auntie, I remember your skin
the way some people remember the bus route.
I know I need to trace it to go home.

The world of work, bus bells and sirens
are harsh alarm clocks.
I would rather wake gently,
in 5 am light,
to your softly whispered duas
welcoming the morning.