The pace of life is so fast, a blink of an eye ago I knew I understood, now I’m not so sure.

So many words by the mass of writers and scribblers, amateur and professional, so many screens of scenes unimaginable, music both cacophonous and frightening but energising in that zappy zippy modern way!

Remembering lying prone, snuggled in soft grassed English meadow, glorious warmth of summer sun, cloudless blue above, comfortable middle-aged zephyrs soft round my ears and then that impossibly beautiful sound, that sound known since mankind existed as hunter gatherers from millennia past... the skylark, rising, higher and higher, fearful I meant danger to her nest, seductress with voice and dipping flight her song enticing me to follow.

Knowing this was, for her, a ritual of life and death, I rose to my feet and allowed myself to be led.

For perhaps 20 minutes she rose and fell, always directly away from her young, always impossibly high, almost invisible, yet always that unmistakeable, unforgettable skylark song!

Fifty years later, I’m sitting in Exmouth Strand, almond milk cappuccino and tablet to hand, looking through the mess of pottage I laughingly call my brain for... words!

A short quote by anon: "I won’t arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, I’ll sanitise the doorknob and make a cup of tea."

Thanks my listener!