Lost my bottle

It turns out that brewing ceased at Praed in Wellingborough back in 1955. I wanted to take the bottle, but it was full of stuff and I thought there might be live stuff in there, for whom the bottle was a home.

I was in a wood that I had intended to survey for the Ancient Woodland thingummy. The trees were in rows with the protection straps broken around them, so it is not ancient. But there was a big old sycamore and I considered sitting with the tree. There was a lovely stool - it had been coppiced probably when the wood was planted.

There was something wasp-like buzzing around and I was too scared. Then I was generally scared because I thought I might step on a nest. The two we brushcut in the reserve were just holes in the ground.

The only good thing was that I briefly saw a hare.

Earlier, I had sat in a little spinney, where oaks had been planted maybe 50 years ago. A few field maple and ash, but mainly oaks. I heard robins and saw some other little birds. It was pleasant but I was feeling ropy. I asked a tree to take my pain, but it didn't. Instead I almost passed out twice. Migraine and faintness seems to be my post-menstruation thing these days.

Nonetheless, I liked sitting there and was grateful for the period of peace. Enough rustling and cheeping to focus attention away from the banging head.

Also saw a harlequin ladybird.