Hatching what?

With a late afternoon clinic visit today, I went out before lunch, taking the bus to town, then bought a snack, took some more photos of the St David's House demolition, and walked on down the Taff Embankment to the Bay. The eastern end of the the site being worked on that the moment is the broadest in relation to the new HMRC building next to it. I recently noticed that a service ramp runs for three quarters of the length of St David's House, which means that most of the old building is ten metres further away from its neighbours, giving double the amount of space between old and new. This will most likely hasten the pace of obliteration of a not-so-iconic late sixties building. But, we shall see. It's interesting to watch others work at things on this scale. I'm enjoying this as much as did during the year the St David's II centre site was cleared for rebuilding.

The Bay wetland nature reserve was quite quiet, perhaps because its inhabitants are preoccupied with brooding over their latest batch of eggs. I caught sight of a crested grebe sitting on some broken reeds in the middle of a reed bed, hatching eggs maybe? I heard heard the mating call of a bird that I felt I needed to check on to be sure what it was, and then I saw it, one of several in the same stretch of riverbank. The distinctive face of a Goldfinch high up on a bare tree. I was pleased with the photo I got as well. 

I took the bus back to the city centre from Plas Roald Dahl, then wandered around for a while before heading back to Riverside Clinic. Somehow, I mistook the time and arrived half an hour early. Ah well, never mind. Time to complete the days dose of DuoLingo Spanish. And, I've started reading one of the Poveda novels Kath gave me - 'El Profesor'. 

I found it easier to engage with than the last one by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It's in contemporary Castilian Spanish and its narrative style is a bit more, familiar from stuff I read in the Spanish thread of my Google newsfeed. The author lived in Warsaw in his early thirties. I don't think this is an autobiographical tale, but it certainly draws from his experience of living there, and even reading it in a second language gives me an impression of the modern Polish capitol.

That was a lovely walk this afternoon, but I was quite tired by the time I reached home, so I idled the evening away, lying down rather than sitting and fidgeting. I'd love to feel that I could be more creative, more productive. Unlike the wildfowl I'm hatching nothing at the moment.