Close to the edge, down by a river

I went to the railwayana auction. It was just that I arrived and left without inspiration taking hold. I was outbid on an oval-shaped piece of metal and I thought that the original paintings that I looked at were very much at the opposite end of the scale to desirable.

Then, there were the carriage prints, a handful of which would have potentially enhanced my collection. Unfortunately, one was sufficiently creased that all the life had been squeezed out of it, another was so badly foxed that it looked as though it was snowing brown snow and a third, bafflingly, had been mounted [CPs are presented in such a way that they already effectively have a white paper mount surround, so they don’t really need another one] and this one, therefore, was also displayed in an unnecessarily enlarged frame.

It is always good to have more than one area of interest when disappoints strikes. Everton managed their third league win in January during the afternoon, which balanced things up nicely, but the highlight of the weekend was still to come.

“Always a chance of a kingfisher,” I said as we set off on our walk along the side of the River Trent - my important substitute for sea-side - earlier this afternoon. Next to trains, birds have provided so much pleasure over the years and even though I have the spotter instinct when it comes to my species tick-list, I can also take great satisfaction from a better view than before, or a close-up encounter with a less common type.

Our kingfisher did not disappoint. Rising from the bank on our side of the river, it hovered like a kestrel, then arrowed into the water before surfacing and shooting across the channel. How wonderful. I’ve never witnessed that before, although we have seen them flying up and down stream many times. There is so often something fascinating to see in the natural world close to home.

I felt an inclination to turn to the numerous dog-walkers and families that were within ear-shot, but who were otherwise oblivious to the event - which was actually already over anyway and the bird was by now barely visible in the tangled vegetation on the other side.

All those other folk are, no doubt, happily playing out their own versions of a rewarding weekend, anyway, I thought. We left it at that and went for a coffee, instead. 

Not a kingfisher.