Climatic Tricks
8 May

The climate continues to play strange tricks.

Late last week, we were experiencing temperatures in the low 20s. Then, on Saturday, it was cold enough for winter warmers. Today, Monday, we were promised warm weather again and we have had a confection of low cloud, sea mist and steady, soaking rain.

The garden hardly knows whether it is coming or going. The wallflowers and bluebells are in flower at last. However, the hostas and the blue clematis are both ahead of themselves. We have a single camellia. One of the azelias has flowered; the other has barely leafed. The irises are about to flower; the climbing rose by the front door is infested with greenfly.

Out in the wider world, it is a similar story. Magnolias bloomed for no more than a day. All of the tree blossom, which has come so late and has come in abundance, is starting to fall almost as soon as it has arrived. Mind you, it was all much earlier last year. Trees have leafed overnight.

And, on Friday, in the heat of the afternoon, proof that summer is beckoning with the thin, reedy, squealing call of the swifts and swallows as they wheel overhead picking off the high-flying insects.

I've been reading some books.

Firstly, let's take Blue Shoes and Happiness by Alexander McCall Smith. It was good to be back in the company of Mma Ramotswe and her No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency. The gentleness of the action belies the deep humanity and, at times, aching emotion of the predicaments. We are now seven volumes into the series and it would be easy to underestimate the consistent quality of these books so four stars it is. I am so glad that I heard about these books on Radio 4's Book Programme some eighteen months ago now.

Next is a re-read of a book by Caroline Myss which was a present from Gill at Christmas just before the millennium. Then, I was much taken by the analysis of why people don't heal. Now, I'm more taken by the suggestions as to how they can - see how far I have moved. And I had forgotten how spirit led the second part of the book is. I still feel that my Rossi should have a read. Previously I should have wanted him to take what I wanted. Now I think that he will take from it what he wants. I hadn't rated this book before. So four stars.

Finally, I come to Beyond Depression by the son of one of my favourite fellow Southport Quakers. I owe it to her that I have read the book. It takes as its starting point the question as to why so many people in the West are diagnosed as depressed and further asks who benefits from this. It then asks if there isn't something else going on and comes to the conclusions that we have to high an expectation of happiness and that we could just as easily cure ourselves of our malaise by getting on a doing stuff (I simplify but...). It's been a very good read; very stimulating. Another four stars I feel.

All of this seems to be heading me off in some sort of direction. I'm not sure yet what it is.

On Saturday night, Ross and I were in town at Unity Theatre for a performance by Troika Ranch of their multi-media dance piece called 16[R]evolutions. We were there because Robert was one of the four dancers.

I'd suggested to Robert that we should meet up beforehand but hadn't had a response to my email. Then when Ross and I were heading off to one restaurant to eat I got a very strong inclination to go to a different place. And, of course, there we met Robert and had a pleasant 15-20 minutes of chat before he went off to the performance.

To be honest, it wasn't all that good. The technology was interesting but the choreography was a bit dull and some of the ideas about evolution were a bit undergraduate. I thought the dancers did very well with what they were given and I thought Robert's work was strong and his acting very focussed. But no more than two stars, I'm afraid.

I also have a couple of interesting sights for you.

Firstly, there is this interesting sign at Penrith Railway Station.

And secondly, the answer to every young gayman's dreams. If this ad is true, then it offers the chance for us all to get inside Michael Owen's underwear.