No time like the present

Took this at the Royal Horticultural Show's Wisley glasshouse, where every year they turn over a section of it to butterflies. It wasn't as good this year as last year - maybe I just went on a bad day and they weren't hatching, or maybe they were avoiding the noisy screaming children and their annoying parents. One of the children was called Willow. Presumably her parents were fans of Buffy or maybe they are just into trees. Perhaps she has a brother called Dutch Elm and a sister called Olive Branch.

Who am I to talk? It's not that long since I dragged my three kids around public places and other people tutted at their snotty noses, bad behaviour, and loud voices. But it's the prerogative of middle aged people everywhere to be hypocritical about these things once their own offspring have achieved the state of adulthood.

It's where we are now that governs us, not where we were or where we will be. I am sure my children were perfectly behaved in public and I will never be incontinent or have a bad memory. Yeah right ...

Maybe the butterfly has the right idea. In human terms it doesn't emerge from the chrysalis until the equivalent of sixty, then it flies around looking good for a while, goes limp and flaky and dies. No fuss. No nursing home fees and embarrassing funerals. When did you last see a dementing lepidoptera? They just live for the moment then expire.

Mind you their names are much more interesting than the middle class kids of Surrey parents. Check out the list. Essex skipper, painted lady, mazarine blue ... Whoever came up with those must have been sitting next to Lewis Carrol and sharing his laudanum I reckon...

But children are useful. Two of mine helped me fix the garage roof today. One of them even climbed up and got the waterproof sheet in place. So half term so far is proving very productive, what with yesterday garden dejunking and today's efforts. Might sort out all my photographic gear tonight... now there's a challenge ...