Tide out, tide in

It is always a pleasure to go down to the Creek. And often an unexpected pleasure, as it is impossible to see whether the tide is in or out, and what's there, until you cross the bridge and go down a narrow overgrown footpath beside the stream to where it suddenly opens out into a panorama framed by the railway viaduct.

This morning, a flock of upwards of two dozen house martins. Circling round and round, always gliding in to the same favoured bit of damp mud before taking off again. I hadn't seen them since this time last year, and I don't know whether they nest somewhere around here or are just passing through, although the mud testing seems to suggest they are thinking about settling.

When we lived in Spain our apartment block - and several others around the square - had big overhanging concrete porches supported by concrete columns, and it seemed that every corner had a martins' nest in it. They seem totally unfazed by the presence of people, cars, animals, noise, pollution...

The tide was right out this morning, but yesterday afternoon it was different. I'd somehow managed to acquire an extra dog on the way through the Coombe (well Ty and gone and charmed Marjorie into a nice heap of cookies, so it seemed only polite to take Tilly on our walk). She's not the most obedient of dogs, and she flew over the road and down the path to the creek faster than I could see that it was full of water and covered with swans (and Gordon the Goose, of course). By the time Ty and I had walked sedately to the water's edge she was in it, standing there staring at me in exactly the same way as Jake does. Not swimming, in fact refusing to swim when a stick is thrown, but wanting the stick to be thrown anyway.

I wasn't bothered about the swans as they were all the adolescent gang from the Waterside, well used to dogs and not protecting cygnets, although from the way Gordon bullies them I wouldn't put it past him to pick a fight with a collie. Anyway, as Tilly was in the water I had to let Ty go for a swim as well. Very noisy he was too, which got the swans all milling around staring at him from a safe distance of about ten feet away. And appeared to amuse the audience I eventually realised we had, standing in their garden looking down on us. I suppose they had been admiring the wildlife before the mad dogs and wild lady arrived...

On the way back I saw the first dog roses of the year in flower, and also suddenly a lot of brambles. Summer now seems to be well and truly here - all we need now is the weather to go with it.