Wittenham Clumps

Thank you for all your comments yesterday, they meant a great deal to me. I'm so glad I joined the Blip tribe. I would like to reassure people that despite the tone of yesterday's blip and the nature of my problems and circumstances I do not go through life in a state of continual misery and anger, I do prefer to concentrate on the good bits life is full of. Yesterday I was very affected by the meeting at the Job Centre and shocked by the atmosphere of fear and suspicion and the new security levels they obviously feel necessary there as well as the specifics of my situation. I found myself unable to stick to the brief attempt at humour I intended and it all came pouring out. Thank you for listening. Normal service ?ill now be resumed.

I was very tired today, didn't get much sleep and so poor Catie has had to put up with one of my garrulous gibbering days! The combination of weariness and drugs has a slightly bizarre effect on me at times producing a constant stream of consciousness to issue from my yammering gob. I natter on at Catie, at Jake, at the cats, at my reflection in an inane and at times incoherent manner. It has the advantage of being cheerful nonsense but nonsense nonetheless. Within seconds I will both construct complex conspiracy theories explaining variations in the artistic style of 1960's comic books and then deconstruct them in favour of rival theories of synchronicity. In depth and uninvited speculations on the creative processes of authors in inventing particular plots and characters will be interrupted and forgotten in a sudden urge to sing a Lemony Snicket song. Often, when I have descended to composing sonnets worthy of The Great William McGonagall to the custard cream I am about to demolish, or extemporising arias to the process of making instant coffee, I hear the slap of Catie face palming and the desperate sobs of a young woman with an embarrassing idiot who won't shut up (or at least make his lines scan) for a father. Poor Catie, she is a martyr to my insufferable somnambulant wittering.

On the way back from dropping Catie at college this morning (strange how silent she was as I nattered away the miles...and come to think of it she doesn't usually run away from me like that when we get there....perhaps we were late) I decided to stop and get some shots of the crowds of birds flying low over the fields in great swirling clouds of feathery eagerness. They were mainly black backed gulls increasingly taking over inland niches even here in the Shire furthest from our island's coasts. It'll be fascinating to see, in a few thousand gull generations, what adaptations start to appear in these birds with their inappropriate camouflage and fishing tackle, what new species may be emerging gradually in the flock.

I thought Wittenham Clumps looked their usual impressive selves and so here they are . I've blipped about the clumps before , now and again. The tree topped hill to the left of the church spire was once covered in Celtic roundhouses and farms, then later a roman villa. The smaller hill, behind and to the right of the spire, is the hill fort I've talked about before. A high lonely place rising out of the ancient marsh and with commanding views of all approaches, including the Thames. It was a vital power centre for the local tribe, the Atrebates and as such the Romans needed to take it out - and did. It must have been an incredible sight. For miles around you could see the round hills with their palisaded fort and their roundhouses under the smoke of their hearths. Certainly fires my imagination.