In Somerset, when the tedium of word processing became too great to bear, I would step outside, pick up a fishing rod and make a few casts into the river that ran by the edge of the lawn. Here all I can do is pace the estate – and that can take 30 seconds or less. Still, there are curiosities to see. I enjoy the hummingbird hawk moths that twitch their way round the lavender. Or the pearly-white spider, its arms outstretched amongst it, ready to grab any bee that comes too close. It seems to be mimicking a white snail that also sits on the blossoms. Just now three wall brown butterflies landed on the concrete path in front of me in a neat line. The one in front seemed the largest and best marked, the one at the back was very scruffy with a ragged wing. They sat there for 30 seconds and the front one took off, landed on the lawn and twitched its backside seductively. The other two made a dive for it, collided with each other and then spiraled up in combat, disappearing over the hedge. The other stayed put, waving its bum and waiting for the winner for some time but neither of its potential lovers returned, so it flew off.
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