A cool and cloudy start to the day, but the sky cleared later and the sun shone, but it felt more like October than the end of July. Last night's Olympic opening celebration took place in persistent rain, the one thing which couldn't be planned immaculately like the rest. And it's raining again today in Paris. Let's hope that the athletes, smiling bravely and waving from the desks of their team's boat don't suffer from a chill after getting soaked. Apart from a glimpse of the extravaganza on the news, we didn't watch.
Pancakes for breakfast this morning - more savoury than sweet for me, with added pieces of chicken for a change. Clare continued reading and correcting my manuscript during the morning, and discovered a page of text had not been printed, so I had to extract it from the original and print it.
We went for lunch at Milkwood in Pontcanna Street, which serves a brunch style menu for yuppies with an unusual variety of offerings. Clare had a taco with beans, goats cheese, egg and mashed aubergine, and I had a round of toast with cockles, laverbread and bacon bits. All ingredients are sourced in Wales, according to the menu. It was busy, with pavement tables full, and nearly all space taken up indoors as well, but there was space for us at a table in a corner that was close to rather noisy occupants. Fortunately they were near the end of their stay, and the place was quiet by the time our meal was served.
Clare then returned for a siesta and I went for a walk around Llandaff Fields and then down to Blackweir. An overnight local news story told of a van being stolen from Pugh's Garden Centre in Morganstown, and being driven to Blackweir and dumped on the edge of the water by the bridge. The immediate concern was what the environmental impact might be on the pool below the weir, so a recovery vehicle came and went first thing this morning. While I could see where such a vehicle might have parked on the edge of the bank to do the heavy lifting,
I couldn't work out how the van had ended up on the edge of the pool. No sign of tyre tracks or disruption of the river bed, no stains from sump oil or fuel on the surrounding area. While I stood there, I saw three pairs of salmon in the waters of the pool, as the water was unusually clear and the light perfect. Alas, no camera. The pool is a breeding ground for river eels, and a much favoured place for cormorants egrets herons and some ducks. It seems to have survived the incident without contamination thankfully.
Walking up the avenue of trees, I spotted and picked up a small black wallet on the path. It turned out to be a police badge and warrant card. Five minutes earlier a couple of uniformed cops on walking patrol had passed me by the bridge, and I could see them a hundred and fifty yards ahead of me. I pursued them and attracted their attention just as they were about to leave area. What's the matter? I was asked. One of you is in trouble. You dropped your warrant card, I said. Not the first time I've done that, I was told. Oh dear. Had I been unable to reach them, there would have been trouble as I'd be obliged to hand it in at a police station. Not that there are many of them left these days.
When I got home, Clare was emerging from her siesta, so we went for a walk around Thompson's Park together. The floating moorhen nest was empty, but I spotted both parents on the edge of the water with the reeds behind them. After a few moments, there was movement in the reeds, and a photo showed three small red beaks poking out of the shadows. These aren't newborn chicks but ones born several weeks ago which I haven't observed until now. Here's one of the parents with three offspring.
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