4th May - 10th May The dog lagged, unusually, behind for the whole last stretch of the walk home. When she eventually caught up after much cajoling, the reasons for her sheepish attitude became apparent; she was carrying half a starling and didn't want it confiscated. It was confiscated. Trekking over the field a touch before dawn and the distinctive call of a Northern Lapwing split the dawn chorus. There's a marshy area where the cow pasture meets the cornfield meets the peat bog that looks like ideal nesting grounds for the little blighters. I hope they do well with their chicks! I used to really dread being pulled into a client call on the spur of the moment but, the more I get into this project, the easier that becomes. I feel like I've found a groove — this is more familiar territory than some of the other work and it's reflecting in my confidence. Science fiction is not predictive; it is descriptive. Predictions are uttered by prophets (free of charge); by clairvoyants (who…
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