Valentine's Day treat.

Private jets are one of the most flagrant emitters of massive amounts of carbon.  The busiest day for taking a private jet is Valentine's Day. This refutes the claim that VIPs are using them only for trips vital for business and politics. 

Frankly, they are happy for the rest of us to drown as sea levels rise or to scorch in heatwaves. They are rich enough to have insulated mansions on high ground with guards to protect their food stores. 

So for our Valentine's Day, Nigel and I and around forty friends carried out an act of love for the planet and demonstrated outside the two most-used private jet terminals in the country, at Luton.

Faced with the problem of cutting free people who had locked themselves to a boat and to oil drums, the police made no arrests. 

We were among friends and when the Samba band arrived and the sun came out, and a member of airport security brought us some chocolate biscuits, it was really rather lovely. 

I certainly enjoyed it more than an overpriced dinner in a crowded restaurant and a dozen wilting roses.

Whatever happened to Twinnyness?

We celebrated Perran and Carenza's birthday by going to the Making Modernism exhibition at the RA. (Thanks to MaryBeeArt for the recommendation.) Four women artists made extraordinary work at a time when to be called a great artist you had to have a pair of testacles.

Two of the paintings were of twins, but as babies. It's true that now Perran and Carenza are very much adults, people rarely congratulate me on my multiple birth, or say , 'You've got your hands full.'

Even in the cafe where we went for lunch afterwards, the waitress heard us discussing 'the birthday' and brought a single scoop of tiramisu with a candle....and set it in front of Carenza. Perran (who actually made the booking) said, 'And it's my birthday too,' only to have the waitress smile non-comitally, as if he were some kind of dessert fraudster.

So does twinnyness really diminish in adulthood? 

Not at all.

The twins arrived at the RA from different parts of London - although they hadn't seen each other that day, they were nattily dressed to match, both in baggy black trousers and outsize jackets.

Twinergy.

Murmuration-ed

Murmurations are when starlings miraculously fly together in a flock tens of thousands strong. As they swirl, group and regroup they create a liquid geometry of patterns in the sky.

 

The time to see this is December or January, just before sunset, since it is pre-roosting behaviour.

Nick and Jackie reported good views of a murmuration from just outside their village Spar.  I asked if we could please visit, and as the day dimmed we arrived to join several dozen of their neighbours.

 

Over twenty thousand starlings created their stunning formations against the backdrop of a flaming sunset.  People oohed as if they were watching fireworks.

But then as the sun sank, the starlings began to funnel down into a small stand of hedgerow.

Between us and the hedgerow was a tiny cottage.

 

‘Are all those thousands of birds landing in that person’s back garden?’

‘How can there possibly be space for them?’

‘I expect they make quite a mess too.’

 

As we were conjecturing, a delivery van drew up outside the little house.  The driver was hesitant – the number of spectators made it look as there had been an incident.

 

Finally he got out and knocked.  The luckless homeowner appeared, only to be faced by around fifty of her neighbours brandishing binoculars and phone cams, like being papped. 

 

She accepted a large box from the courier and disappeared swiftly back inside.

‘What do you think was in the box?’

Speculation raged.

The most positive suggestion was ‘starling food’ (Jackie), the most negative, ‘a peregrine falcon’ (me).

Either way, I did feel a little sorry for the woman.  Much as I love starlings, I don’t think I would ever wish to be ‘murmurated’.

video courtesy of Nigel