Monday, 26 March 2012

Mad March

Rather than concentrate on the road this morning as I rode along on my motorcycle in the rush hour traffic, I was pondering the ups and downs of changing the clocks.  The Monday morning traffic was pretty distracted, and quite dangerous as everyone was still half asleep.  Although our bedside clock changes automatically, it didn't stop us waking up in a panic on Sunday morning, run around the house until we'd satisfied ourselves that we weren't running an hour late.  I can't wait for Scottish independence, then we won't have all those pesky farmers in the northern wastelands preventing reform of the summertime issue.

Have you ever laughed at a funeral?  Me neither, but I did the equivalent of it yesterday.  I'm still mortified.  And it has confirmed all The Cat's worst fears about me.  Oops.

Friday night we headed up to the Suffolk coast.  After a previous experience of heading towards east Anglia using The Cat's Mother's built in navigational skills, we turned on the Garmin Sat Nav to ensure we arrived without getting lost and in good time.  Both objectives were achieved.  Aldeburgh is a terrific place...managing to combine oldie worldy charm with oldie worldy charm perfectly...narrow streets, little cottages and not a Starbucks to be found.  If you're ever in that direction I can highly recommend a stay at the Brudenell Hotel...the rooms were fabulous.  It appears you can take the girl out of Essex, but you can't take Essex out of the girl.  As we dined, the table behind us was occupied by people who could have stepped straight out of The Only Way is Essex...bleached blonde blokes and bronzed girls in tight dresses that nearly reached their legs.  It was 'proper home from home'.

If we'd known in advance there are just twenty hares on Havergate island we'd probably not have booked...after all the island is 7.5km long, so it would be a bit like finding a needle in a haystack.  As it turns out twenty is more than enough, as they all tend to congregate together in one area.  The first thing we saw when we stepped off the boat was a hare, so sometimes ignorance is bliss.  They were introduced to the island by the farming community there, and stayed long after the farmers had gone.  The salty environment is not actually good for them, so they have a life span just 70% of hares in more traditional hare country.  The RSPB have a policy of non-intervention, which means the population stays pretty nature intended.  They have no real predators there, although just occasionally a fox will reach the island (although it was never quite explained how) and will do what foxes do best.

We got to and from there in a little boat, and it was a pleasure not to be forced to wear life jackets by the health and safety Nazis in either direction.  The sun shone and the gentle breeze made it a very pleasant little trip.

As it turns out twenty is more than enough, as they all tend to congregate together in one area. So we were able to spend a couple of hours watching them...sadly none of them boxed.  But then when there's only twenty I guess fighting off a suitor is probably not advisable.  They keep it in the family.

They generally sat around eating, didn't appear to be too bothered by our presence and when they decided to move, appeared to have only one speed - lightening fast.  Beautiful.   I've stolen some great pictures The Cat took and added them to mine so you can get a flavour of our delightful day.

 It doesn't end well for some

 There were more than just hares

Did I mention it's a bird sanctuary?