Late May in East Sussex, England, came into its own this weekend with hot weather at last. I had just had good news about my vocal chords too from the throat surgeon – I don’t need an operation as my good left vocal chord is now making up for my paralysed right one. So thanks to the team at the hospital who have got me onto the road to recovery here. I feel great about this….just the eye surgeon next week when I hope to get more good news too.
The most appropriate way to celebrate, or so it seemed to me, was to take off to the woods with friend Henry so we went to the ancient wood across the road from where I used to live before I moved to the county town of Lewes some ten miles away.
Henry, who is not only an honorary wolf, is also a theatre director, so he jumps out of trees with ease.
It is bluebell time in these parts and these wonderful and largely unknown woods were dusted in a luminescent covering of that most delicate of blues, the English bluebell.
I used to walk my dogs here until about three years ago but I still recognise the soundtrack of my life in the country where woodland birds were my constant companions.
The path that lead to the old fox’s lair was also bordered with these wonderful British wild flowers…I wonder if the fox is still alive, he was an elderly creature when I saw him most days prowling down this grassy path. Us wolves retain a comradely attitude to foxes so I hope he is still in these parts surviving by cunning and vigilance.
It was a precious moment standing here again in the familiar and deserted English countryside – a perfect time to feel grateful for recovery and the good things that life still has to offer.
They too, like my old fox friend, have to survive my cunning and vigilance in the difficult and unpredictable world of British rock music. Good luck to them as they go off on their latest British tour.
It was great to see Foxes! and to have all our neighbours turn out for it too but it was an extra thrill to see all those bottles of single malt whisky amongst the pink carnations on the mantelpiece behind them – especially the Laphroaig and Bruichladdich from the land of my fathers, the island of Islay in the Hebrides off the West coast of Scotland. An interesting weekend – almost as if it was trying to tell me something.
Foxes! Tour: Fat Fox Portsmouth 24th, Freebutt Brighton w/Quasi 25th, Saki Bar Manchester 27th, Buffalo Bar London 29th http://foxesfoxesfoxes.co.uk/