Batty

I let Nell the Poo out into the garden this morning at 5.45 and whilst she scooted to the top of the garden to do her do, I stood in the courtyard. ‘Oh look,’ I thought. ‘A bat.’

For, yea verily, we do see a bat, or sometimes two, in and around the garden, usually at twilight or the morning gloaming. Little pipistrelle bats, I believe. In the evening they are usually at the top of the garden, and in the morning, in the courtyard.

And as I waited for Nell to return, I thought, ‘There’s another bat. And another…’ and before I knew it, the courtyard was FULL of bats, swooping and swerving, ducking and diving. There must have been fifteen to twenty of them! It was like Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’. Only with bats. I didn’t dare move in case I suffered a Collision With Bats. 

Nell reappeared and stood by the back door, completely bat-oblivious, which was probably a good thing given it only takes the sight of a single bird to set her off on a frenzy of excitement. I stayed in the courtyard, watching ALL the bats. I’ve never seen so many in real life. It was AMAZING! 

They gradually moved their swooping upwards to the top of the house. I am pretty certain they are living in our attic space. 

Two hours later and it is hissing down with rain again. I shall definitely need to mow the grass soon. Most of the garden plants are having a second wind with leaf and flower growth. Even one of the lupins is flowering again; must be the third time this year. And talking of gardens, I am very sad to hear the news that Monty Don, the discerning lady gardener’s pin-up of choice, is retiring from the ‘Gardener’s World’ TV programme. He will be much missed and, as far as this lady gardener is concerned, irreplaceable. 

Yesterday, I was going to blog about it being National Literacy Day, or possibly International Literacy Day or World Literacy Day, one of those anyway, and discuss my favourite reads across the years, but Mum came out of hospital and there are issues and problems so I got distracted. If someone was to suddenly ask me my favourite novel of all time, though, and give me only three seconds to think about it, I’d say, ‘Cold Comfort Farm’ by Stella Gibbons. 

And certainly NOT anything by J.R.R Tolkien which seemed to be the favourite novel choice of a lot of the Classic FM listeners.