Around three thirty a few noisy light aircraft flew over.
A frog in the pond began croaking louder and louder. In defiance? Mistaking the planes for fellow frogs? There was another one answering him from the compost heap. And this in August, well outside the mating season.
Where have I been all this time? Partly travelling across Europe: France, Belgium, Germany, Poland. We noticed one thing in common between Polish and British railways: the fruit trees beside the tracks, convenient for the railway workers’ rest huts. These plums were somewhere in Western Poland, between the border and Warsaw. At centre-right, in the opening between the trees, is the silhouette (take my word for it) of one of three young men foraging them.
I warmed to Poland at once!
And their plums are very tasty.
Will Turnstone 