Balancing next to time whilst nature crawls on regardless

The sunshine caught her, and then the rain, but Bessy was not perturbed - she was mesmeric as she darted across the garden escaping the clutches of both, climbed a bean pole and jumped through the open window onto our matrimonial bed. It's something to be seen. And there was my wife beside me playing at being a cormorant cherishing the edge of a gently bobbing boat on an open, peaceful lake. What a Sunday morning it was.

Felix had been to see a fisherman somewhere on the coast of Madagascar. It would seem that they had been brothers in a time when time didn't matter, and that both had gone their own way until Felix decided that time had done enough to erode their family union and that, therefore, it was time to stop time. They did and they became brothers, because nothing seemed to matter.

George was planning on spending the weekend crawling in the shadow of a cow in the Brecon Beacons. It must have been the querying look in my eyes: he commented that to learn to shelter from what nature throws at one, one must first learn to embrace nature. I didn't ask anything more.

Cookie told me she was going to negotiate a principle of self-liberalisation for all those oppressed by their own inhibitions. I suggested this was a wonderful thing to do with her weekend, but she told me that there was never finality in weakness because it would always be there. I'm not sure I followed but I wished her well.

That - I guess - is why the idea of maneuvering through time with agility is so appealing: one never really gets caught up in nature's relentless attempts to weaken one. It's fun too, when the weather's right.