Hoopoe (upupa epops).

The Hoopoe (upupa epops) must surely be one of Europe's most exotic birds. Its long curved bill, and tall prominent black-tipped crest, make it unmistakable. Its upper plumage is a warm cinnamon colour, and its wings strongly barred in black and white.

The Cuckoo has been with us for about two weeks, and we've also heard the Hoopoe's distinctive 'hoo hoo hoo' call. So, we're keeping our fingers crossed, hoping that once again he'll stay around and raise a family nearby.

We've had them here in the past; no reason why they shouldn't stay again..

Elegy.

Against my rational conscience, I offer this autobiographical elegy. A little morbid? Maybe! But poetry seems to be in the air. I think I can safely say that this will be my very last poetic posting. I originally gave this little ode the title of .....

'Elegy to an Unknown Painter'.

Then, catch me a unicorn
and make him scratch
a hole in that truffled earth
in which a stranger's heart may lie.

And ask a local man
of six foot tall
to say kind words
as they place me in.

Then let my finished body
be covered with the ashes
of oaks and pines
that were felled thereabouts.

And now, let nettles and brambles grow,
that men may know
not to trample there
where lies a simple English heart
that so loved this foreign soil.

At last!

For me, it's what makes vegetable gardening worth while. The first picking of delicious Purple Sprouting Broccoli in spring.

This year it's arrived perfectly on time, and we ate our first few spears on Easter Day (with a really delicious roast leg of lamb).

I always sow the 'late flowering' variety; a vegetable that starts producing in April is worth its weight in gold. I quite expect it to continue flowering for anything up to two months. It's just a matter of regular picking (and eating), and not allowing the plant to fully flower. Eventually I leave just one spear to produce it's little pale yellow flowers, I leave it to dry, and save the seed to sow the following year. It always comes 'true to type'.

Quite recently Haddock's looked unbelievably bare and uninviting. Suddenly it's gone bonkers again, and I can already forecast a glut... Still, I'd rather have too much than not enough.

The Sunday Story: Frank Mitchell.

Frank 'the axeman' Mitchell was a big, slow-witted, criminal thug, who was rightly sentenced to life imprisonment.

In December 1966, the East End's infamous Kray Brothers 'sprung' him from Dartmoor Prison, and set him up in a London flat; complete with female company and a few 'minders'. The reason for this is complicated and somewhat immaterial.

I was living in Lillie Road, Fulham at the time, and talk of Frank Mitchell was everywhere; he was an extremely violent and unpredictable man, and everyone in London was told to keep a very careful eye out for him.

Several days after his escape I was rudely awoken in the middle of the night by a bunch of gun-toting, dog-handling, special-squad cops, who dragged me from my bed, held me beneath a light bulb, and compared my sweet face to that of ugly Mitchell's. They then quickly abandoned me and rushed off to continue their search of the house.

Eventually they returned to apologise, and explained that someone had phoned to say they'd seen a man who looked like Mitchell entering one of two Lillie Road houses. They had obviously been mistaken.

The Kray Brothers eventually ordered his 'execution'; he was simply too uncontrolable, and too violent. They paid some heavies to have him shot.... RIP Frank.

CONGRATULATIONS.

I would like to congratulate both the Cambridge First and Goldie crews on their double victories. Well done lads, let's do it again in 2011.

Easter: Its origins.

As everyone knows, Easter is the ancient Roman festival of Chocolate and Hot-cross-bun eating.

Originally known as 'Eaters', this month-long festival was celebrated by those who could consume more than their own body-weight of Chocolate before lunch, then tackle a mountain of Hot-cross-buns before dinner.

The eventual winners of the various regional eating competitions were carried aloft through the streets of Rome, their homes painted in Chocolate, and a life's supply of Chocolate-covered-hot-cross-buns presented by the local Mayor on 'Eaters Day'.

Often, the over-consumption of Chocolate caused serious stomach troubles for the winning contestants, and it was said that if they were not 'Good-by-Friday', then the winner's title should be bestowed on whoever had come second. All prizes were traditionally presented on 'Eaters Day', two days after what became known as 'Good (by) Friday'.

Today the tradition continues. The original name has changed slightly, but the spirit of over-indulgence lives on. Bring on the Chocolate!!! (at least, for Lady Magnon)

HAPPY EASTER everyone.

The Boat Race.

It's almost time for the Oxford v Cambridge Boat Race (tomorrow?). This is one of those events that seems to be watched all around the world, with people (who have nothing to do with either of the two universities) taking very distinct sides. Never watched for fun; your side HAS TO WIN.

Less well known about the Boat Race is that both universities have a 2nd Crew. For Oxford it's called Isis, and for Cambridge it's Goldie (on Boat Race day, they race just before the main event).

I was at school just outside Cambridge and the Goldie crew would often train on our stretch of river (the Great Ouse), occasionally leaving their boat in our boathouse.

A good START to any race is essential, and boat racing is no exception. On several occasions I remember practicing our starts against Goldie, and they simply flew ahead of us in seconds. Of course they were older and stronger, but the force they put into their first few strokes was unbelievably impressive.

Rowing is a tough old game, and requires a huge amount of dedication. I salute these guys; I know how much they have to suffer. I was more of a fair-weather-oarsman; much more sedate.

Come on CAMBRIDGE!