Special Things

It seems that we, the huddled masses, love to be entertained. Storyteller, musician, singer, dancer - we become transfixed by those who can do what we cannot, and we give ourselves up to their performance. Tonight, by the most ridiculous serendipity, I travelled to Bungay to hear a magical voice that I caught in its final moments by sheer chance in Trafalgar Square on Tuesday. A minute later and I would have missed her. Lovely young girl, beautiful voice. She's only 24, and just starting to try and make a living from her music. Just eleven of us piled into the Fisher Theatre cellar to hear her, and three of those were staff. But she loves to sing for people who want to hear her, and she gave us her all. Magical isn't too strong a word for it. People with these awesome talents seem to have a direct line to a special place, and I think that's part of the attraction for lesser mortals. Here's a video on YouTube of her and fiddler Ciaran Agard. He is only 21 and already a legend. How did he ever learn to play like that? https://youtu.be/Qd-4gpmmoXc

It was very hot today, and I decided to trim back the hedge with my electric hedgecutter.It didn't require too much movement in the heat. All went well until I came back out after lunch and started it up again. Immediately I cut through the cable and the thing went dead. It's a straightforward repair job to put things right, but it was nearly two hours before I could continue. First I had to go into Fram to get a connector, then I had to attach it to the two separate wires. Dead easy? Nope. I put everything together without first attaching the casings into which the fitments slip, so I had to take it all apart again. Then I'd got the casings on the wrong ends, and off it all had to come again. Fiddling with those tiny wires in a confined space was tricky, and I kept losing the miniscule screws. What a waste of bleedin' time. In future I'll pay more attention.

When I drove home from Yoxford the other night at nearly midnight I saw a lot of small lights in the field beside my house. Curious, I slowed down and the lights became the eyes of half a dozen or so deer that had slipped across the lane from Sarah's garden and were heading off across my field towards Bruisyard. One tripped gently in front of me as I watched with slack jaw. God, but they are a magnificent sight. I love that they take over the land when we are asleep and can't interfere with them. Long may they survive unmolested in these parts.