Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Adding Colour

The day began white and crisp.
If it hadn't been for the sparkle I would have thought it was snow, but it was merely frost.
I suppose I am just not used to seeing tyre marks through the rime, but that is mainly because I am an owl not a lark...

We COULD have stayed in, and done more sorting, but instead we decided to play truant and go to Worcester. Anywhere where I can take photos of water is a good place to visit...


Our usual car park (Kings Road - handy for the cathedral facilities) was full so we parked at Copenhagen Street.  However it was not a statue of a little mermaid that caught my eye, but  a seething, squawking, quacking gathering of gulls, swans and ducks, all eager for more than their share of the bread. One adult had even put bread on their child's hat in search of the ultimate picture. Now I like a good photo, but even I wouldn't go that far - I mean who wants a photo of their kid with bird poo on their hat? That's what I call really messing with their heads...


After lunch in Worcester, we walked down the riverside walk towards Diglis.
Once we were past the Cathedral, and the high flood water markings, this was foreign territory for my husband.






We crossed over the river at the new (2010) Diglis footbridge, pausing to read some of the locks adorning the bridge, celebrating love, life and loss.
Maybe we should have brought our own silver padlock of wedlock to add to the collection, but how would I feel if some jobsworth decided that they must go? Decrying it as some modern foolishness, rather than a record of passion and passing. Displayed with more permanency than a post on social media - for these are modern records, hung proudly for all to see and, if left, will be a historian's delight and treasure trove.

The earlier brightness had given way to Midlands grey, and so we decided to wend our way home, past more birds being fed with bags upon bags of bread. Soon I fear these birds will no longer be able to take off, weighed down by their diet of good intentions.







All in all you may say,
a day of black, white and grey.
Monochromed in unremarkableness,
but you didn't see the sun through the clouds,
or hear the roar of the weir,
the cries of the birds,
the chatter of voices,
or feel the coolness of the wind.

Nor have you seen the brightness of the scarves I brought...
half price in the sale!