There’s something in the air … or in the water …

I was in the beautiful Dyfi Valley a couple of weeks ago, and while I was there I popped in to see Monty and Nora, the adult ospreys who last year successfully raised the first osprey chicks to fledge in the area for four hundred years, and have recently returned from wintering in Africa. Now, I’m not an awfully big fan of the sentimental anthropomorphism of wild animals, but these ospreys are really fantastic birds to behold. The folk at the Dyfi Osprey Project keep a very close eye on Monty and Nora, noting their every move on a whiteboard in the hide, and I was able to see that by the time I got there at about 10 am, they’d been at it four times already that morning. Four times! Dear oh dear. Since then, it seems Nora has laid two eggs, which is great news. I hope they’re as successful as last year’s brood.

Living in a city, the advent of spring is less oppressively vibrant than it is in an area like the Dyfi Valley. That’s why BBC Springwatch is broadcast from there and not from these satanic mills, I suppose. Although saying that, I do believe that some of the teenagers I see every day are beginning to show spring-like behaviours in the same manner as Monty and Nora.

Amid all this arrogant amorousness, it seems that even this cold fish is warming up somewhat. This morning, I actually flirted. Not with danger, nor with the idea of opening up a small bed & breakfast near the seaside, but with an actual man. Or rather, I attempted to flirt with a man. It’s been a while since I attempted the activity, and I doubt I’ve tried it without the aide of performance enhancing drugs (I just mean alcohol! Honest!) since the age of fifteen.  Needless to say I’m a bit out of practice, and whether or not the flirtee was aware that I was trying to flirt is extremely doubtful. In fact, thinking about it, he almost certainly wouldn’t have been. I might be the only person in the world who considers chatting about records for an hour over coffee a particularly romantic act. Oh well, never mind.

What with all of the excitement, I’ve not been at the needles very much this week, but it does make me happy that my current project goes quite well with the Matthew Dear 12″ EP I bought this morning.

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About Knoob

Well ... I'm thirtyish, female, mostly British, and skirmishing occasionally with depression. I though that taking up a useful and practical new hobby might help me develop a healthy work/life balance. I failed to anticipate how frustrating learning to knit would occasionally prove. But I shall persevere in the face of adversity!
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