Algy reclined on a sunny rock beneath his cliff-side nest and listened to the sounds of the sea, seething and swirling all around him. He could think of no better way to spend a bright summer’s afternoon, and he hoped that the tide would not rise too soon…
Algy sends you all lots of fluffy seaside hugs, and this picture postcard from his stay-at-home vacation on the wild west coast of Scotland. He hopes you are enjoying a happy and peaceful Sunday xoxo
Algy perched rather precariously on a sloping ledge beside a strange rock pool and peered into the murky depths. Today was a day of significant political activity in certain parts of what humans called the “western” world, and Algy was wondering what the outcomes might be. As he gazed at the tangled masses of seaweed overshadowed by hard, slippery rocks, he was reminded of a thought expressed by an ancient Greek human being, many, many years ago…
Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their evils – nor the human race, as I believe – and then only will this our State have a possibility of life and behold the light of day.
[Algy is quoting from Book V of Plato’s The Republic, written around 360 B.C.]
Algy hopped over to the rocks, where the incoming tide was surging and gurgling through a narrow channel in a most delightful way. For a short while he perched on a rocky seat in the sunshine, just watching the water rushing backwards and forwards, although he knew that he would not be able to stay there for long…
Algy followed the lighthouse keepers’ path down to the barnacled rocks at the edge of the sea, and found himself a prickly perch among the rock pools. The tide was coming in, and the water surged all around his feet with much enthusiasm. It was great fun to watch, and he wondered how long it would be before he got splashed…
Algy hopes that you have all been having fun and enjoying yourselves this weekend 🙂
Algy was hopping about here and there beside the sea, engaging in that popular Scottish pastime of trying to find a wee sheltered spot out of the wind, when he suddenly noticed a startling patch of pink among the lichen-covered rocks at the side of the beach.
Flying over to the place excitedly, he was thrilled to discover that the first thrift flowers of the spring were blooming merrily in the sunshine just a storm-wave’s length from the sea. Amazed that the plant could manage to survive in such a harsh and salty environment, Algy thanked it kindly for brightening up the rocks beside his home and bringing a happy smile to his face 🙂
Algy found a damp perch in the cold sunshine, and studied his surroundings. He was intrigued by the diverse patterns and colours of the seaweed-covered rocks, and the ever changing wavelets on the sand, created by the constant trickling of the wee burn which was trying to find its way across the beach to the sea. It reminded him of all his friends in diverse places around the world, from many different cultures and countries – some in the sunshine and some in the darkness, some in the cities and some in the countryside, some struggling with problems in their lives and some flowing happily along…
Algy hopes that you will all have a happy and peaceful Easter holiday weekend, and he sends you all lots of very special fluffy hugs xoxoxo
Most days were grey – either cold, damp and dreary, or drenched in heavy rain and dense Scotch mist. But from time to time the sun shone, and then Algy found a perch where he could feel a wee bit warmer and drier, and watch the play of light on the sea or the wee burn which had found itself a new path across the beach, twisting in and out of the masses of rock in a mysteriously elaborate pattern.
It was undoubtedly spring; the light was much stronger, the days were much longer, and the skylarks were singing merrily above the sand dunes… and yet the air was cold and the wind was sharp. Algy was inevitably reminded of T. S. Eliot’s famous opening lines from The Waste Land:
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
[Algy is quoting the opening lines of that most famous of early 20th century poems, The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot.]
The wind howled across the sea, driving battering waves of dense Scotch mist and drenching rain onto the already sodden land. Algy retreated to the shelter of a wee cave which had formed beneath the rocks at the edge of the beach and tried to make himself comfortable. It was pleasantly dry in there, although hard on the tail feathers, but there was little to do by way of amusement except to watch the weather hurtling past outside and listen to the roaring of the wind. As he gazed at his toes, Algy remembered the first verse of a famous poem:
Bolt and bar the shutter,
For the foul winds blow:
Our minds are at their best this night,
And I seem to know
That everything outside us is
Mad as the mist and snow.
[Algy is quoting the first verse of the poem Mad as the Mist and Snow by the late 19th/early 20th century Irish poet William Butler Yeats.]
The wind howled across the sea, driving battering waves of dense Scotch mist and drenching rain onto the already sodden land. Algy retreated to the shelter of a wee cave which had formed beneath the rocks at the edge of the beach and tried to make himself comfortable. It was pleasantly dry in there, although hard on the tail feathers, but there was little to do by way of amusement except to watch the weather hurtling past outside and listen to the roaring of the wind. As he gazed at his toes, Algy remembered the first verse of a famous poem:
Bolt and bar the shutter,
For the foul winds blow:
Our minds are at their best this night,
And I seem to know
That everything outside us is
Mad as the mist and snow.
[Algy is quoting the first verse of the poem Mad as the Mist and Snow by the late 19th/early 20th century Irish poet William Butler Yeats.]
The next day brought no change in the weather: the outside world, if it still existed, was lost somewhere beyond a never ending mass of dense Scotch mist. Visibility was reduced to a few hundred yards at best, and the small part of the world which seemed to remain was blurry and grey.
Algy flew down to the sea, and gazed in the direction where the islands should have been… but as there was nothing out there except a pale, wet fuzziness which drove in among his feathers with surprising force, he decided to find a sheltered spot among the rocks and focus on his more immediate surroundings instead. Even when the rest of the world had vanished, there was plenty to see in the rock pools, so Algy perched on a cold, damp rock at the edge of a pool and spent a happy if damp and chilly half hour watching the tiny creatures beneath the surface going about their daily business…
The Adventures of Algy 