We checked out of Cwrt St Thomas this morning, setting off in heavy drizzle; but as we drove eastwards the weather improved, and by the time we arrived home it was a warm, sunny day. This very definitely didn’t match our mood – especially as the house was an utter pit, and the garden a weed-choked disaster. Sadly, running away back to Monmouthshire wasn’t an option, so we grumped around for a while, drinking buckets of tea and eating the best women’s chocolates, while unloading the cars, unpacking, and starting to work through the inevitable laundry mountain.
Then we gave up and went out for lunch.
When we arrived in Stratford R had an urgent errand to run, and while I was waiting for him I wandered down to the river to see if the Banded Demoiselles were out. I searched all the usual places, but without success, which didn’t improve my sulk. Then R called to say that he was on his way to the restaurant, and I was walking back towards town to rendezvous with him when I suddenly caught the tell-tale flutter of a pair of dark blue wings. Plunging recklessly into a nettle bed, I managed a couple of shots of a lone male, but then moved forward too quickly and put him to flight. Luckily though, his reaction disturbed this female, which was deeper in the undergrowth, and which I probably wouldn’t have seen if he hadn’t disturbed her. Better yet, she only flew a little way, and then came down on some convolvulus where I was able to photograph her.
I wouldn’t go so far as to call her compensation for having to return to the real world, but she did lift my spirits a little – and on days like today you have to seize the positives wherever you can find them.
