When I walk in the mornings I often think about what I might write about in these pages when I get home. The strident bird song that rang through my ears along North Road was an option. I wanted to mark the power of it. Blackbird song mostly, a kind of whistling, almost tinkling sound that was echoed across the rooftops of the town by others of the same species. It was glorious, and so uplifting, to me at least, not being party to their territorial wars. However, as I began to scale the hill behind Alexandra Hall I saw something flicker across the outcrop just before the road that leads up to the golf club. It was light blue. A series of moving lines. I stood still and watched it become a bird, then an ostrich, then Winnie-the-Pooh with a butterfly on his nose. It was a delight. A light-show projected from one of the windows in the modern halls next to Alex. A gift. It cheered me, made me smile. That’s two things and it’s still night. Thank you, whoever you are.
