Day 353: Thanks, Lymphs

Today, for the first time, hopefully not for the last, I swam through dry, crunchy oak leaves, a strip about a metre and a half wide, all gathered by the divider rope in the pond. It was seven degrees (44 degrees in Farenheit, Ruth, just in case you're reading!). The leaves made a rustly music. I felt very, very blessed. 

I also found out a fact (always a good thing). That fact was 'what happens to the leaves on the pond'. This has played on my mind for a long time now. It was exacerbated when, a month or two ago, I saw a coot eating one, a green one. It looked like quite a chore. It was a big leaf and a small coot. I thought 'that can't be the way of all the leaves' and since then, it's niggled. Today, I asked one of the lifeguards. She said that there is a gentle flow in this water (which is why its quality is so good) so the leaves naturally make their way towards the drain at the bottom end and the lifeguards scoop them out in the mornings. Aha. That's all I thought: aha. I was quietly very pleased, though.

Not this smiley

Just after that pleasing nugget, I had quite a moment with a fox. She (I decided she was a she, despite being on the bigger end of the fox scale) was up at opening to the big field on the path to the pond. She wasn't skittish like little boy foxes. Or scrawny. She was relatively plump and definitely well-kept. She had a healthy pelt and a kind of silver glow around her (she wasn't a ghost - it was just a different quality of fur on that bit of her). She came out of the big field, saw me, and stopped. 

She looked for a while, then moved forward. I said 'come on then', gently, like you do to a dog who knows you a bit, just to reassure them it's okay. She upped and came a bit closer, until she was maybe 15-20 metres away. Then she sat down and watched, maybe for about a minute. She looked very calm and content. I liked her. I was impressed with her confidence and poise. And if I'm honest, I'm always a bit over-excited when I get to have a good look at a fox. I remember when I used to shout foxish noises at them from my skylight in Ealing. They'd respond by looking for the noise, but they couldn't see where. It'd confuse them in the end, but not before pleasing me considerably. 

Like this, only fatter, healthier and a girl

Back to today. When a lady getting into the water had a big squeal, my calm, contented fox started to lose her composure a tiny bit. She looked behind her. The noises got a bit louder (another lady had got in the water - well, it was seven degrees). Then she turned and trotted off. I assume she went into the tabletennisy table bit. I didn't see where she went, but she didn't cross into the big field. I walked slowly and looked for her as I wheeled my bike up the path, but she was gone. Or hiding behind a stone, maybe. Or in a bush. Up a tree would have been best, like that cat that sometimes comes. I didn't think to look up. 

Once, when I was at Hasbro and I had a day off, everyone was a bit excited when I got back because the day before, they'd found a dead fox in a tree just behind R&D. It was the talk of the whole area. A dead fox in a tree! I think it was Douggie that spotted it. It was really something that. People said 'It's a shame you didn't get to see it. You'd have liked it.'. Nobody had taken a picture. 

The only other time so many people were united about something going on outside was when a couple came and parked up in the overflow car park and engaged in a spot of dogging. In the middle of the afternoon. In a Vauxhaull Astra. I made that last fact up, but I'd like it to have been true. Everything else is. So many people rushed to the window of the offices to see (what is there to see, at that distance, in through the windscreen of an Astra?) that if the building had been a ship, we'd have sunk. Big time. Flipped. There'd have been a lot of casualties.

In the end, the lovely Basit Ali, a VERY moral and well-mannered man (a poet, an Urdu voiceover artist, speaker of many languages, working day and night, relentlessly, patiently, politely, on security at Hasbro) went and knocked on their window and told them to leave. He didn't think it was funny at all (unlike all those faces pressed against the windows - if only Senior Management could find a way to get people to give that quality of attention to the droning quarterly company reports that everyone was forced to attend). He thought it was appalling, unfathomable, immoral. They drove off.

Anyway - today was good. Swim. Juliet off the Internet (I do like her). We had a lovely meeting. I may go and play football on Sunday, in Hyde Park, with a pile of women. I may also flit off to Switzerland to do cover an event that Juliet isn't available for. I may do neither. Either way, it was a delight to see her. I talked to Rob too. That was good, though noisy, where I was. And I had supper with Ruth and Carole, who lives in Blaenau Festiniogg (ha ha haaaa) and on Bardsey. They're both artists and they're both lovely. And we had sausage surprise. And a pudding. What more can you ask?

I was blown away by a Japanese Maple (is that what I'm talking about?) and it's very redness in contrast to some yellowing and some houses. I was touched by yellow leaves falling liltingly onto the road. I grinned at some hills. My body is so much happier when it's moving and sweating and being forced to work. Archway Road was a gift today, and Southwood Lane helped me out of my stupor earlier this afternoon, on the way to the pond. 

I left a little note for the people in Barnardo's. I didn't buy some boots yesterday. Today, I saw a pair in the window of Barnardo's. If they're still there, I'll have them. I think they'll be good. They might keep them for me. They might not. Either way, someone will be made happy by them... whether or not they're kept, if I get there and love them and buy them, I'll be happy and if someone else does, surely the fact that someone else wanted them enough to stuff a scrawldy note through the letterbox must give them even more kudos. Win win. 


I have decided my 'condition' is on the way out. My throat is differently sore. My voice is a little bit crusty. The lumps on the back of my head are now more itchy than tender and the groin lymph area doesn't hurt any more, on either side (it was only ever on the left). I'm getting better. One more good night, and I'll be as good as new. Thank you, lymph. You're doing a great job. Cheers.