This week I saw, not for the first time, a man knitting in the public library. I've seen him there before: an athletic, lean man in his fifties with a small gray beard who, for whatever reason, chooses the same spot. Perhaps he wants to be observed.
Or, like people who read in public places, likes to have some people around. Whether he is making a statement about his masculinity is unknown.
I also saw, not for the first time, an ibis family of 12 white birds in search of something to eat on my lawn. I can tell from their long, curved beaks that they are not cranes or herons; the egrets, when they appear with their elegant tail feathers, are always alone. They walk slowly, as if in pain, over the grass, always causing me to wonder why they choose that unlikely, suburban location.
But the ibis(es) believe that it's safer to travel in a group.
Yesterday I found a headline in the magazine Scottish Life: "World Porridge Championship Returns to Scotland." I wonder if this exciting event will coincide with our upcoming visit there.
I am always intrigued by British eccentricity--or is it just whimsy or individuality? I think of the Englishman, quoted in a recent article, who avoided doctors, going instead to the local vet when he was ill. Why? "He doesn't ask too many bloody questions."