I discovered today that there's a graveyard in the middle of my place of work. A very neat and well tended graveyard with fences and smalls trees around the outside. I wonder who's buried in it.
The weather is warm and too good to waste, so I've been sitting by the canal. Beside my spot on the bank sat a placid coot on a nest. On the other side of the canal people were putting up posters with noisy sellotape and staples. Suddenly the coot began to make a call like the sound of the staple gun. After a while, the coot settled down again.
I wonder when the eggs will hatch.