Lapwings

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Today Daisy and I trudged out over rigid frozen ground.  Puddles spilt their smashed ice lids over the mud where tractors had rolled.  There was no wild playing with sticks today, the cold was serious and Daisy walked on ahead intrepidly, head down.

It had been a good day, all computer problems had been sorted out and I had got to a point where I felt Possessed might just be ready to send out to New York.  I had sent a copy to my agent to have a quick once over, and posted a letter about copyright to Steve Edis, my composer.  He is working at the National at the moment writing music for Adrian Noble’s new production of the Captain of Kopenick by Carl Zuckmayer (in a new version by Ron Hutchinson).  Luckily it is on until 4th April, so I will get to go and see it.

When Daisy and I got to a broad newly ploughed field, a flock of strange birds lifted up in front of us, crying out such a sad little peeping sound.  They were Lapwings or Peewits – quite rare now.  You can see them in the distance in the picture I took today.  They lived here in Shakespeare’s time because he seemed to know them well:  “Far from her nest the lapwing cries away; My Heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.”  (The Comedy of Errors)

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About thowards

Playwright, Librettist, Lyricist
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