Facebook Farewells

A couple of days ago I heard, via an email list, that someone I knew had died. I almost wrote 'friend of mine', but in truth although we had been acquainted for about twelve years or so we had never met. We belonged to the same society, both belonged to a virtual group of that society, he was the controller (if that's the right word) of the first chat room I ever visited, way back when you had to book a space weeks in advance to arrange an online meeting. He was a follower of this blog, as I was of his. We had many friends in common. And so I do feel that he was a friend, and am saddened by the loss of this man I had never seen. Ironically, we would have met, should have met, in two weeks' time at a real life reunion of our little online community, but it won't happen now.

The news of his death was announced first on Facebook. From there the word went round by email. And I have been brooding darkly about Facebook ever since. He was not the first friend of mine whose death I have learned about by this means. Only a couple of months ago, a man that I did know in real life but had not seen for years because we live in different countries now was killed in an accident. The first I knew of this was when a mutual 'friend' set up an 'RIP' group for him. Earlier last year, something similar happened, not on Facebook this time, when I heard via an email group that a former member of the group had died. It had been some years since she had been an active member, and some of our community didn't know who she was. I was able to post a link to her personal website, which was, of course, still out there in cyberspace.

And this is what concerns me, a little. Lennie and Francis are still listed as 'friends' on my Facebook page. This blog still officially has a 'follower' who will never read it again, and will never again post to his own blog; he only started it a month or so ago. Andrea's home page is still there. So how long does one's virtual presence stay around for? Are we creating a society of ghosts who can be summoned at the click of a mouse? Websites, home pages and even email addresses will, presumably, eventually disappear when they are no longer being paid for, but what about blogs and Facebooks or similar accounts, which are kindly and generously hosted free of charge? And the email lists? Will one in future have an obligation to leave 'unsubscribe and/or delete' instructions along with the list of bank accounts and direct debits to be cancelled?

Not Snow This Time

Yesterday evening the entire south west region of England disappeared under heaps and heaps of snow. Snow had been forecast, but not in the quantities nor at the speed that it arrived, and people were stranded, villages were cut off, twins were born in a fire engine with snow chains on, etc. It carried on all day today, too, and has now been followed by a bit of a freeze. Life is on hold again, and it's worse here now than it was in London last Monday...

...except that it isn't. The rain was coming from the south, see, and the cold air was coming from the north, and where they met there was chaos, everywhere except a very very narrow strip along the south coast of Devon and Cornwall and the shore of the Tamar in between where it never happened. When I went to bed last night it was raining. When I got up this morning it was raining. What snow (a fair bit) had fallen during the night was rapidly being washed away. There was enough left on Josie's windscreen for passing schoolchildren to have written a rude message on it, but my windscreen (nose in to the wall instead of nose out) was clear. All the talk in the yoga class was about who was snowed in and where (nearest less than eight miles away) while we looked out on a nice clear green football pitch and did extra breathing exercises.

Anyway, in Saltash it has actually been quite a nice day, albeit with a cold wind blowing. Ty found a rugby ball in the stream yesterday and insisted on having it kicked up and down the coombe for him. He stashed it on the way back, as he always does with the toys he finds in the woods, and went straight to it this morning to play with again. And again this afternoon. I've never kicked a rugby ball before - and I discovered that if you kick the sharp end by mistake it's actually quite painful, even with the heavy duty winter boots on. It's even more difficult for Ty to guess which way it's going to go than when I'm kicking a 'normal' ball, which is good, because it gives him more exercise. For some reason this ball, although obviously a child's toy, is made of much stronger stuff than the usual footballs he finds and shakes to death so that they are easier to carry, if harder to kick, so the dog is developing new techniques as well, pushing it down the hill with his nose instead of trying to pick it up in his teeth and throw it.

In my front garden this afternoon there was muscari in flower. In my back garden I think the young jasmine Marjorie gave me last summer, which was doing very well, appears to have shrivelled and died with all the cold weather. Primulas, campanulas, pansies and white periwinkle are in flower, daffodils are in bud. Spring will come, soon...

Snow!

At last, snow in Saltash. All day yesterday I was feeling quite deprived, listening and watching the reports from all over, but nothing here at all. Late, very late, last night there was a slight dusting of snow - I missed its arrival, but it was there when I took Ty out for his last walk. This morning I was due for a session in the Resource Centre in Liskeard, and had decided that it would be perfectly feasible. Got up, looked out of the window, everything much as the night before, had a quick shower and looked out of the window again to a total whiteout! It only lasted half an hour or so, but it was long enough for me to cancel Liskeard, and for all the kids to be sent home from the community school. They've been wandering about a bit at a loss, really, because there wasn't enough snow for anything useful.

After it stopped I piled all the outdoor gear on and took Ty down through the coombe to the creek. By this time the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and it all looked quite attractive. Especially down at the creek, where a gang of a dozen or so swans was milling about. A man in mittens was trying to photograph them, but they weren't being very photogenic, as they were all extremely interested in something edible on the far bank, and all he could see was a row of wriggly tails.

I had thought it was all going to improve this afternoon, but we have just had another flurry of heavy snow - only ten minutes or so, but enough to make it quite slippery underfoot, judging by the occasional passer-by. The Leisure Centre is closed, too, so I can't even go and run round there or even have a paddle, which was what I was planning for later.

February Frogspawn

We had an extremely chilly walk through Seaton valley yesterday. In the valley itself it was fine, but along the shore from Seaton to Downderry there was a strong Siberian wind blowing straight in my face, which would have been quite unpleasant if I had not been wearing the fleece lined water-and-windproof trousers, Swedish loggers' ditto jacket, red felt hat and black felt gloves, thermal socks, big boots, woolly scarf round face... I was ready for the Arctic and enjoyed the walk. Ty didn't swim, for once. He dipped the toes in and decided against it. The river was quite high and running pretty fast, so it's just as well.



There were lots of snowdrops in flower through the woods, and lots of frogspawn in the ditch beside the path at the country park end. No ice on the water yet, but that may change over the next few days, as the forecast is for even colder weather.

I saw an egret investigating the rock pools at Seaton, the first time I've seen one there, although Jenny tells me that she sees it often, and that it patrols all the way from Seaton to Bass Rock.

This morning it was quite a lot colder than yesterday, although the wind has dropped. Walking down through the coombe I was crunching ice instead of slipping on mud. We have no snow - possibly the only corner of England without any, according to news reports - and it's been a beautiful sunny day. Churchtown was particularly lovely this afternoon, full of strange birds. At least I thought some of them were strange until I realised that they were goldfinches that were robin shaped because of the cold. And the robins were as round as tennis balls.

It is absolutely dry underfoot, not snowing, not icy at all, and yet for the first time ever a council workman has been round spreading grit on the path outside our front door, and on the car parks at the back. Not on the steps, though, that would be too sensible. And not on the roads, either. The only other place I saw that had been gritted was the Co-op car park.



I saw an egret investigating the rock pools at Seaton, the first time I've seen one down there, but Jenny tells me that she sees it often, and it patrols all the way from Seaton to Bass Rock.



This morning it was quite a lot colder, although the wind had dropped. The mud in the Coombe had frozen solid, as had all the puddles, but there was no ice