Sunday, 16 May 2010

Caravan Diaries

Early on Friday evening I was sitting in the van, nursing a drink and studying the way the field slopes down to the sea, past half a dozen dark unoccupied caravans: at that time, I think I was the sole inhabitant of the park, something that always gives me a strange feeling, exhilaratingly creepy.

The field was full of rabbits.  Rabbits of all sizes from new-born bunnies to grand old bucks.  I counted 25, though that may include some duplicates.  Without going all horribly Watership Down on you, I can provide you with the following guidelines should you ever need to impersonate a rabbit in the spring:

1. Make sure no humans are in sight, come out onto your field and start eating grass.
2. Another rabbit will soon emerge close to you.  When this happens, abandon grass-eating and engage instead in acrobatic break-dancing with your partner, including somersaults.
3. For absolutely no reason, both abruptly cease leaping around and go back to eating grass.
4. Repeat until it gets too dark or a human appears (hint to humans: rabbits can't see through glass). 
5. Scarper off to your burrow, presumably to do whatever it is rabbits do in the dark.

On Saturday, returned from a low tide walk over to Monkstone Point with my friends, I'm back in the van, watching again, when a partridge (not a pheasant, I looked it up) strutted across the patio.  'Oh, hello', I couldn't stop myself saying.  The partridge looked superciliously up at me.  'And who are you, pray?'  it said.

We also saw a daddy blackbird plucking worms from the ground and feeding them to his nipper, who was several sizes bigger than him.

Never a dull moment!  And I haven't even started to tell you about the fridge.


  1. The fridge? What?...WHAT?

  2. Does the fridge fit?

    Are these Welsh rabbits, not rare anyway?
    I recall lots of dead ones down there in the 50s.

    We now have a fox in the field, 3 times in the last week, very sauntering. Two ducks swam around on the pond, laughing.
    And a pheasant (not a partridge) in the garden, staring for ages at himself in the little mirror which leans against the stone wall. Next door's small cat Rex was so bemused he didn't attempt to eat it.
    We have no buzzards yet.

  3. Oh, all right. The fridge thing is a really boring example of how to nearly drown yourself in a small glass of water. Basically, fridge from old van was supposed to fit into the space in the new one, but didn't, by about a centimeter. Henry helped me verify this, then happened to mention that he had a spare one knocking around (are you getting a feel for Henry yet?), which I could have. Yes please, and can he take the old one away as well?
    Fast forward to last weekend. New fridge installed, old one still stuck in the middle of the kitchen. I climb the hill to beard H in his den, and old f. eventually removed. That's it.
    Why did it matter so much? Well, if you've ever moved into a new house you'll know why.

  4. Well...I think drowning yourself in a small glass of water would surely count as a lifetime achievment.
    I have a new fridge which is a first in my life. I love it. it's taller than me.