Goose crossing

Last night’s dream was me borrowing Hannah’s car and going on a camping trip which was either to western Scotland or Brittany. I was hanging around with a creature hauled on some rocks, which had the facial profile of Mr Blobby but was really a seal with atypical pink/grey skin pigmentation. I think this was because yesterday Michelle and I exchanged lots of messages about travel, and the idea of jacking work in for a while to walk the western coast of the UK. In the dream I went to Waitrose to buy nice bread. It’s no Market Street at Morrison’s but their bakery section is attractive.

This blip account is becoming a dream diary.

I listened to some interesting podcasts about masculinity and Covid (unrelated) and then jumped on the bike to explore some villages, although it was a bit too windy and chilly to be majorly enjoyable.

At the little pond in Harlton these geese waddled across the road, thinking I might be carrying bread. They contented themselves with grass around my feet. Watching geese swallow is funny. I’m sure they think the same about humans.

As I battled a cold headwind, I saw either a stoat, polecat or ferret, victim of traffic, which made me feel sad. I then researched mustelids. According to the internet, in England polecats may not be found further east of Northants.

There is lots of local opposition to the planned east-west railway that will eventually link Oxford and Cambridge without having to go around the houses, as currently. I can see lots of benefits to transport infrastructure that is less ‘all roads lead to London’ but can also understand farmers not wanting to have their fields carved up so that Oxbridge academics can more easily play in each other’s labs.