Andrew

When you can't think of a name for your blipfoto, look at the image and give it a name.

So, this is Andrew the small tortoiseshell butterfly.

(wonders how many people called Andrew will visit her blip because they've spotted their own name)

Tortoiseshell butterflies are officially one of the most common butterflies in the UK which is rather alarming because Andrew is the first one I've seen this year.
In fact I've seen hardly any butterflies so far and not as many bees as usual. I thought ladybirds were making a big come back but I've hardly seen any of them this year either.
We can, of course, blame the weather - and I do...

In part...

But we really need to look at our own gardening habits (not to mention extensive farming and pesticides) and do things to bring them back instead of alienating and murdering them. I'm already planning next year's garden now that I'm not tied up with studying. More wildflowers, more butterfly and bee-friendly plants and more bug-friendly hidey holes. I reckon I could get Joel to knock up a couple of insect and/or bee houses with the bits and pieces we have lying around. He's always fancied having a go at carpentry.
It annoys me IMMENSELY when environmentally conscious people get called pessimists, or profits of doom, or scaremongers, etc... because I think we are essentially optimistic, idealistic, forward-thinking people with thoughts of the future and caring, thoughtful, progressive attitudes.
I'm not perfect. I have used things and done things in the past that I know now were damaging to the environment (on a very small scale of course) and I am eager to make sure I think about how I affect the natural world in the future. What's pessimistic about that?

Andrew is a bit of a decoy. This photo was taken on a very short, fast walk not long before the weather broke - so it's not representative of today at all. Before and after the walk I was inside muddling through some niggles that I don't feel in a position to share here.
I wish I could.
Perhaps there's something to be said for the old-fashioned diary and pen which no-one reads until after your death.

In short: I'm frustrated with life and people and feel like nobody listens to me or regards me or my intelligence very highly. I've felt like this on and off all my life so I know it will pass.

My parents bought me a book called "Nobody Listens to Andrew" when I was child.

Andrew needs listening to.