Early Whitefronts and the kick that broke a nations hearts

Another week of rarity filled entertainment on the patch, not. Winter is coming and the harbingers of doom reckon el Nino has a rough one in store, and perhaps this will prove the case since this months WEBS on the 18th yielded 2 adult White-fronted Geese and 50+ Wigeon along with the usual motley crew of residents. Migrant Hawker and Common Darter were both still on the wing along White Dyke. The moth trap continues to provide spartan fare with the best on offer being a Sallow on the night of the 10th and the Yellow-line Quaker pictured right on the 18th.

So to the highlight of the week, the Rugby World Cup, which to coin a cliche is a gift that just keeps giving. Yesterday saw me taking the well worn path back to the cabbage patch for the quarter final between Australia and Scotland courtesy of old friend Mr Paul Chapman. To say this was a meeting where I would qualify as a neutral (hence the donning of my beloved, poorly fitting, old school Tigers jersey) would be an understatement, and my intention was to watch the game and applaud quality football from whomsoever played it while being pretty ambivalent as to the final result. The scarf in the picture below was purchased by James whose colours were firmly nailed to Australia (why I know not, perhaps he too has a criminal past?), however I surprisingly found my supposed neutrality vanishing during the second half... I think this commenced with a "deliberate" knock on which resulted in a barely believable yellow card. My neutrality was wavering and I found myself on my feet when the Scots went over in the corner, before ultimately shouting "Scotland, Scotland" as the game entered the last ten minutes and the Scots took an unlikely lead, although the consumption of beer and a hip flask of the levels finest Sloe gin, used only for myself, Paul, and Paolo to toast quality try time, may have been contributory factors. To say the Scots were robbed would be an understatement, however once again it was another truly great game in a tournament of great games, and ultimately respect to Foley for slotting that final penalty in the Twickenham cauldron. Keep the faith.