Worries

Like everyone else, I can't find any more to say about Palestine, or the housing crisis, or the collapse of the climate, or the cost of living, or the pollution of waterways, or the advance of populist extremism, or potholes. The news is that I should worry about potholes - in fact, as a motorist and cyclist I should worry twice as hard. It's nice that these frequent antagonists can find a common cause. Honestly, I think some things demand more worry than others

A day that began and ended with rainbows included a lot of sun but was defined by water. Rain had us dodging into and out of galleries and workshops for a while. This gentleman was outside one of them, with his flock of hens. I blip him because of his colours, their resonance with the leaves, and because you have seen enough rocky cliffs, wild sea and dramatic skies for a while - but I definitely don't have enough photos yet, so there will be more

After I took the picture, the artist told me he is irascible and unpredictable. Not yet really dangerous though because he is young, and his spurs have not yet grown to a significant size, or sharp-pointed. Two of his relatives were exiled because they were similarly ill-tempered. I read that you can avoid a seagull stealing your chips by staring it down assertively. Perhaps my naive assumption of his co-operation similarly impressed the cockerell 

I was more worried about piles of wet leaves that heavy rain has washed down the roads - a greater danger to the unwary than potholes, I think. We drove through stretches of water of indeterminate depth, worrying slightly. Later we walked a new stretch of coast, cautiously testing the depth of stretches of water we could not walk round. Ultimately, our objective was a small waterfal - not so small as it sometimes is, indeed gushing water over the cliff edge as if pressurised