Next weekend is the Wick St Lawrence Harvest Home event. It happens in the field behind our house. This morning I heard the clink clink of metal pegs being struck, and I thought aye-aye, they've begun putting the marquee up. Sure enough as I popped around to Kelly's for more cat food the task has begun. Next Saturday it will be bedlam around here with music until midnight. It's just once a year though.
In the evening we were sitting and said to each other, shall we go and see the nightjars one last time this year? We've only managed one other trip so far this year to see them, and they'll be flying back to Africa in a couple of weeks. It was now or never. We didn't leave the house until gone 8 o'clock but had time for the obligatory flask of tea before we saw one fly across the path. It was very quiet in our usual spot on Staple Plantation so we walked to Vinny Combe where a lot more activity took place, a lot of churring, plus we saw two more birds. We both love being on the Quantocks in the evening, especially if our spontaneous visit was so well rewarded.
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