How many of my readers know?
A. That my father died when I was in 7th grade
B. That my classmates in English class had to write letters of condolence
N.B. I saved these letters for many years. I suppose they disappeared in a general clearance when the house was finally sold. And I was far away in Africa.
This was a very sad piece of theatre. Shakespeare sad. A tragedy, on a stage upon which we all played a part. From the reluctant welcome of the original black Windrush passengers, bus drivers, NHS workers, pushed into low standard accommodation, rooms, crowded and cold, to the hostile environment created by Theresa May, to the who gives a shite attitude of most of us, to the Kafkaesque nightmare of families, here for 50 years or more, with children and grandchildren, required now, to prove to the Home office who they were and where they have been, in order to stay in the country to which they have devoted their lives, to which they are as loyal as any Englishman or woman, with the possible exception of when they support the West Indies cricket team.
This is such an important and emotional piece of theatre. Poignant, tragic. The Admiral came on…
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WC doesn’t have very good photos of Veery, another of the Catharus thrushes. In fact, WC has only seen the species three times: twice on High Island, Texas, immediately after the birds had flown non-stop across the Gulf of Mexico, and once, at considerable distance, in the community of Sea-Tac, Washington. And WC has never heard it sing.
Veery have an unusual migration pattern. The breeding territory extends from western Washington to the Martime provinces in Canada, but not at all in the American southwest or, except along the Appalachian Mountains, in the southern U.S. They have an extremely long migration, crossing the Gulf of Mexico and moving south to the southern half of the Amazon Basin. Not content with that, halfway through the non-breeding season they migrate again, west and southwest to far western Brazil. Of course, that makes their spring migration even longer. The…
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When I was your age ……….
My big sister and I were on a big trip, traveling from Boston to North Carolina to visit our grandmother. I was 11 years old.
… commonly called Mountain Drive above Grahamstown. We first look down on the N2 as it passes through fossil-rich shale cuttings as it bypasses the town on its way to East London in one direction and Port Elizabeth in the other: