Fentastic

Even before I had shifted out of bed, my vocabulary had been expanded by two new words that I’m highly unlikely ever to use again: boutonnièred and cognomen. Clare is reading a pretentiously written book and had asked me to help her get to the bottom of these.

I cycled along the busway towards St Ives and stopped at Fen Drayton RSPB Reserve which is a delightful patch of lakes, reeds and paths over a few square kilometres. I kept my head low when perching by the water for a post-cycle rest because an altercation broke out between a bloke on a bike and some Civil Enforcement Officers. He was accused of failing to stop in order to be quizzed on his movements, having been spotted gratuitously cycling earlier in the day in St Ives town. One of the CEOs was brandishing a pad of penalty notices and because of his big gob he came perilously close to a very expensive afternoon pootle.