It’s Been a Long Cold Lonely Winter

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ain.Now I was on the coast path and, although only 06:30, the day was well on its way to shaking Portchester from its slumbers. A few restless crows were starting to grumble and, across the water, came a distant guttering of seabirds. On windless mornings at low water, sounds travel well and clear above the rumbling of still dozing destroyers. No other walkers were mad enough to be out on the coast path at this hour — a torch was still needed where the path narrowed. Beyond the harbour entrance the port-hand channel markers were clear enough, but inshore they were momentarily confused with traffic lights ashore — leastways until they turned green.Turning onto Kenwood common, with the glow of Portsmouth hidden by the wall and with no lights from still sleepy houses, the gloom returned. Now the starling

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s roosting in tree tops were getting ahead of the game. Stepping carefully across muddy grass to find a path back to the road I made a mental note to respond to the Council’s call for local improvement ideas.But now it was time to step up the pace and head back along the Wicor Path before the day dawned on everyone else. Venus was now invisible but she had promised a brighter day ahead. By the time I was heading for breakfast eggs the only question in my mind was whether I would feel this particular morning would be special enough to qualify for the annual full-volume replay of Here Comes the Sun._________________This article is part of a series ‘Portchester — the place I call home’ and first published as Bruno’s Blog by local Councillor Gerry Kelly.</article></body>

But Venus reflects light over the horizon.

Venus reflecting the coming dawn (Image source: Author)

Inspecting the sky at 06:00 it was only possible to see stars because there was very little moonlight. Even then it took a few moments before night vision was restored after an early trip downstairs for the first brew of the day. But persistence paid. Just above the tree line Venus was lit by sunshine that had already brought daylight to Helsinki. Venus would soon be high in the sky, and I would be wandering down Hospital Lane cursing the motion sensors that sporadically ruined my night vision again.

Now I was on the coast path and, although only 06:30, the day was well on its way to shaking Portchester from its slumbers. A few restless crows were starting to grumble and, across the water, came a distant guttering of seabirds. On windless mornings at low water, sounds travel well and clear above the rumbling of still dozing destroyers. No other walkers were mad enough to be out on the coast path at this hour — a torch was still needed where the path narrowed. Beyond the harbour entrance the port-hand channel markers were clear enough, but inshore they were momentarily confused with traffic lights ashore — leastways until they turned green.

Turning onto Kenwood common, with the glow of Portsmouth hidden by the wall and with no lights from still sleepy houses, the gloom returned. Now the starlings roosting in tree tops were getting ahead of the game. Stepping carefully across muddy grass to find a path back to the road I made a mental note to respond to the Council’s call for local improvement ideas.

But now it was time to step up the pace and head back along the Wicor Path before the day dawned on everyone else. Venus was now invisible but she had promised a brighter day ahead. By the time I was heading for breakfast eggs the only question in my mind was whether I would feel this particular morning would be special enough to qualify for the annual full-volume replay of Here Comes the Sun.

_________________

This article is part of a series ‘Portchester — the place I call home’ and first published as Bruno’s Blog by local Councillor Gerry Kelly.