Unflappable

St Mark's day, which gives its name to St Mark's flies - rather strange, quite large, jet black flies, with a bulbous thorax and slender abdomen, like a mico-size dragon fly. They fly with their long, rather thick, legs dangling below them, in a way that reminds me of bagpipes

In the past we have had population explosions of them in the orchard. They drink nectar from the blossom, and it is my annual joke that they are more useful pollinators than the bees, who are far too busy flying over the orchard to the oilseed rape. Too soon for the joke this year, as there is little sign of apple blossom, oilseed rape flowers or St Mark's flies in our chilly valley. They are also called hawthorn fly because they take nectar from hawthorn - another late-comer that we have yet to see this year

Traditional St Mark's day revels revolve around calling down blessings on the planting and forthcoming harvest. We have done our share of planting today, so let's hope the gods are with us. I read that in Spain they bake a cake with an egg in the middle and then break the egg on someone's head; if preference is given to those without hair, that would make me a candidate!

Returning late to shut up the chickens (so this is literally a shot in the dark), we shared our opinion that after a long day scratching in the dirt, a good night's sleep is what we deserve. We also both take a dim view of Spannish practises