wheresrhys

We’re often told that London is a very green city (by which I mean leafy, rather than environmentally friendly), and it is definitely one of its better features. In Amsterdam there are far fewer parks, and these are absolutely rammed on a hot day such as today. Whereas in London it’s easy to find a quiet spot to sit and read, here next to the Vondelpark the best I’ve achieved recently is a damp patch where wet dogs bothered me, and a spot beneath a tree weirdly covered in spider webs… which later revealed themselves to be colonies of caterpillars – COMPLETELY covering the tree (no exaggeration – it took a while to realise it wasn’t a prank involving lots of halloween fake cobweb), several of which had fallen and squirmed around in the grass next to me.

Which is why I’m indoors writing a blog post as opposed to soaking up the rays,  though it is on a subject which desperately needs sharing with the world.

When I was 17, after the fall of Britpop and the rise of Girl Power (OK Computer not only was a great fin-de-siecle album, it was also a great death knell for good, mainstream British music), I was forced to abandon the charts in search of better aural fodder. At this time I discovered some great bands whom I still love – The Delgados, Grandaddy, Mogwai, The Beta Band – but a possible standout was The Crocketts. They played angsty cowboy punk and, perhaps more importantly, they were from Wales (sort of), were Skinny and Wirey and nobody else had ever heard of them. They were my band. A painful moment for me was when I heard they were playing live in my hometown for the first time… about a week and a half after I left for uni.

A couple of albums later they disappeared… but I discovered yesterday that the Drummer and lead singer are  back (have been for about three years) as The Crimea. A very different sound to The Crocketts – less angst, more passion; less punk, more soulful – but a great band nonetheless. Reminiscent of Arcade Fire. And they offer their latest album for free on their website so by all means repay the favour and go and see them live as they’re supposedly breathtaking. I know I will be.

So, as I sit here contemplating if the time is yet right to retry the caterpillar and bikini infested park, I am happily listening to the return of a great band.

I may or may not have mentioned before that, as well as being a programmer and a guitarist, I am also a birdwatcher.

Well, I was, though some people might take umbrage at that statement these days. I’m like the ‘dedicated’ football fan who never goes to see their team play. These days I’m not so much a birdwatcher as a bird-come-acrosser, but one day I hope to get back to dedicating some time most weeks to going out into the countryside and observing our avian friends, as it’s the most calming activity I know. I’ll be visiting Wales in the next few weeks and look forward to walking through woodland glades awash with warbled birdsong, and diving for cover from protective seabirds.

Yesterday in Vondelpark I was reminded of how wonderful birds are. When they do something eminently watchable the feeling is a bit like stroking a large dog; the contact with a simpler animal makes the complications of life drain away momentarily.

I was sat by one of the lakes next to a  willow tree (in a spot I can’t believe I hadn’t sat in before), reading my book, when along came a family of Egyptian Geese. The Egyptian Goose is neither goose nor duck; the body and head are all duck, but the legs and neck are distinctly goose-like. The now nine almost fully-grown chicks, with the fluffy down long-since pushed out by proper adult quills, were chaperoned from a distance by their parents, and hoped up onto the land to say hello, before dashing back into the water at the sound of a distant dog and actually diving beneath the water, something I’ve never seen them do before. After the panic had subsided I watched them running across the lake flapping their wings in a not-too-feeble flexing of their developing flying muscles.

Nature is a delightful thing.

ps – If you’ve wanted to comment on any posts, sorry about the comment form not working for goodness knows how long. And yes, I do appreciate the irony that someone wishing to comment on an article that railed against a debate that didn’t allow readers to respond was what alerted me to the fact that visitors were unable to post comments.