Snapshots of my journey to work

[triskellian]

There's a little blue Fiat that lives at least part of its life in the sidestreet opposite my house where my own car lives. The reason this puzzles me is that I often pass it coming the other way when I'm driving to work. I work in a village in the middle of nowhere with no night-time employment I can think of, and there's no day-time employment visibly available in my local sidestreet. I suppose the Fiat's owner is either having a relationship with someone in my work-village and living in my sidestreet, or vice versa, but I can't help being tempted to write a polite inquiring note and tuck it behind the Fiat's windscreen wipers to ask.

There's a dark red BMW with the number plate 'LAZIO 88' which shares part of my route to work. I recognise 'Lazio' as the name of a football team, and assume '88' means '1988', but what happened then? Is the driver a Lazio fan, and that was the year they won the <mumble> cup? Is he a Lazio hater, and that was the year they suffered crushing defeat at the hands of his preferred team?

There's a middle-aged man in the village who walks his small daughter to school every day. He's short and grumpy and reminds me of my dad, in a way I find rather sweet. He carries his daughter's brightly-coloured rucksack for her.

There's an elderly man with a tiny white terrier dog, who lives just round the corner from where I work. Whether I get into work at eight or half past, he's always walking his dog on the grass verge. Today, in the rain, the dog was wearing a little coat.

I enjoy my journey to work. I like recognising fellow-travellers and watching the progress of the fields and gardens I pass. It's poppy season at the moment, has been for weeks. It started with the little wild red poppies, just a few, scattered on the verges. Then, as their numbers started to increase, the big bright pink cultivated ones appeared. Now there are complicated multi-petal poppies in lots of shades of pink and lilac and red mixed in with the simpler ones. Their flowers look almost like roses.

Comments

[triskellian]

These poppies are all unjustified sneering and suburban ostentation. Really. They're an insult to the name 'poppy', and I can only tell they do actually belong to it by their stems and leaves. They're not a patch on the little unpretentious wild ones.

Although I shouldn't insult roses because they're taking over my (wild, overgrown, uncared-for) garden, and heading towards the house. If they start to think I don't like them, they'll be climbing in through the bedroom window one of these nights, and all that'll be left of me is that the roses will be red instead of pink.

[several-bees.livejournal.com]

Ah, fair enough then. I suppose. Reluctantly.

We have to keep our garden relatively tidy for the rental inspections, but manage alarming roses anyway: an enormous bush out the front that looks like a cross between a bouquet from a florist for giants and a triffid.

[triskellian]

Our front garden roses are like newsreaders not wearing trousers under their desks - all plain bare branches behind the wall, and sudden eruption of leaves and flowers above. They look fine from the street and strange from the house, but at least they don't look like trifids ;-)