Fore

"Sorry about that" I said.

"You're most welcome" they said, together.

A flight of two were teeing off and I had nowhere to hide as I walked through the golf course and across their fairway. There were other flights too. Flights of Canada Geese and Rooks and Mallard. It's beautiful this morning at 0900 on the Uxbridge (formerly Harefield Place) Golf Club, and look, there's a squirrel loping across the greens. (And no, that's a nest-cleared discarded pigeon's egg.)

I've already been under the M40. Not Hockney, nor Noble & Webster (dirty white trash with gulls). Fly tipping. No heart, no soul, just opportunistic ignorant dumping. Then and now photos, a broken gate facilitates the awful mess I snapped.

And I've been along a portion of the Grand Union Canal. People on their narrowboats enjoying the early morning sun day. One fat man in nothing but shorts, listening to the radio, drinking breakfast beer from a glass tankard. Others with more ambition, doing boat maintenance using tools and paint brushes amidst the hum of generators and the occasional bell tinkle from passing cyclists, under a splendid cacophony of bird song from the trees and hedges that frame the canal.

There are hawthorn confetti flurries in the light breeze, creating interesting dappled patterns on the ground.

The Frays River was running faster than it has been these last six months, fuller from recent rains - rich feeding opportunities for herons, coots, mallard, moorhen and grey wagtails.

And so went today's 7 km walk.