AUGUST: INCONSISTENCY

 The mole, who periodically decides to throw beautifully sifted earth up on to my lawn, has returned this week. We share this mole with the friend in the neighbouring garden above ours, and for all we know we may be sharing hundreds of little velvety creatures living beneath our properties. 

We never hear them, unlike the raucous rooks and magpies who feel the need to shout at each other quite often during daylight hours, and the irritating squirrel currently tearing unripe hazelnuts off the branches overhanging the garden, barking and screeching as he does so. 

August is often a trying month, during which half the country takes it into their heads to set off on holiday while the other half sits it out staunchly at home, happy to complain about the first half. This year has proved more difficult, if only because the weather has been inconsistently wet and at times unbearably hot. Then there is the virus… but we won’t go into that.

I have been reading about the German occupation of Europe during the Second World War, from the point of view of those sent from Britain as spies. ‘Prince of Spies’ by Alex Gerlis took me through the first week of August and was so thrilling that I promptly read its sequel ‘Sea of Spies’. In the first, the very likeable hero is sent to Copenhagen, where his mission is fraught with danger. In the second, he is attempting to find out whether the Germans are developing the notorious V1 and V2 rockets, and a terrifying journey into and across Germany follows. Both the first book and its sequel are well crafted and beautifully written. They make tense, gripping reads as well as adding well researched facts to one’s knowledge of both places and history at that time.

In contrast ‘Night Flight to Paris’ by David Gilman is based, as you will guess, in occupied Paris. It is more harrowing to read, grim and depressing, and I was glad to finish it – even though the twist at the end was remarkably well contrived. Sometimes it is wiser, in my opinion, to consider whether reading a certain type or genre of book when one is feeling low or depressed can make one feel better or worse. I definitely felt worse after reading the Gilman book, and have had to make a careful selection for my next read – the safe hands of author Ellie Griffiths – to try and return some equilibrium to my life!

I have peppered this blog post with garden views. The poppies and early roses are long gone, but all my hastily planted Cosmos are now blooming wildly and many roses are in their second phase. The sunflowers have hated the extremes of weather, but my American Canna which stubbornly refused to flower last year has perked up in the heat and produced one gorgeous red bloom.

Finally: this particular Blog is dedicated to my father, Noel Unsworth, who fought with the King’s African Rifles in Burma during WWII, and for all those brave souls who fought with him, 75 years ago this week. This was one of his favourite poems:

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,

Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,

Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,

With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”

― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream