Leap year folk get one birthday every four years, which means that when they reach 100 they will only be 25.

It means that although they celebrate their birthday on 28th February or 1st March for the three years, and whatever  fun and partying takes place, it never feels completely authentic. But when the 29th comes round the celebrations accompany the feeling that the real birthday has arrived at last.

Be a female leap year baby and you have a major celebration and can propose if you feel inclined, although quite why a woman should only feel able to propose once every four years in this age of equality is beyond me.

However because leap year birthdays are rare, those lucky enough to be born on one get an ordinary birthday annually, and a supreme birthday every four years, with double celebrations and presents.

I know because I am one and it’s great!

There are a pair of swans on the pond in my village and every year they have a family of cygnets. The swans are so tame they lead their family up the road to local gardens or to graze bugs on the grass verges.

Sometimes they sit in the middle of the road and traffic has to wait for them to move or for a local to come out (eventually) to gently usher them off the road with a broom. This is perilous if done by anybody apart from those who have watched said swans, year after year, and know them well enough to do it properly. This means keeping a reasonable distance from the family, to come from the adult swan side and not the cygnets and to move slowly and gracefully rather than making any sudden movements so they get the idea of what you want them to do rather than that you are about to attack.

An angry swan protecting their young would could do some serious damage so they should be treated with respect.

The fact they are protected makes everyone more patient and they are an asset to any village or town pond which is safe enough for them to inhabit. Apart from their beauty and grace it’s wonderful to see the little grey gawky cygnets turn gradually into graceful swans. Families love watching them and it is nice, and even calming in this frenetic, fast, instant culture to have to wait on the whim of a swan in the road.

Part of the joy of pets is the fact that they play. In fact cats and dogs play but I don’t think hamsters do, unless you count their treadmill. I’ve never seen a rabbit do much more than munch or sleep but to be fair I have never kept one. As for fish, maybe they play chase.

I had a friend that kept white rats. Apparently they do play but the thought of being close enough to find out gives me the willies. Ferrets also play apparently as well as running up trouser legs.

There are some free range pigs not far from here and while the adults sleep the piglets roll around and chase each other through the mud as well as fighting over food.

I’m not keen on caged birds but was left two elderly budgies when their owner died. I tried to give them some freedom by letting them out of the cage for a fly around (indoors) but they were agoraphobic. Budgies do play though. They like bells, mirrors, ladders and swings and will wind each other up like children.

Wild animals romp around and play and it’s not just confined to the young. Most adult animals continue to play, but some humans find it harder. I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this but maybe it doesn’t need a resolution anymore than play does.

Devoted to our dogs we buy them squeaky toys even though they drive us nuts with the noise. This post has loads of cute dogly activity.

I did think of using a squeaky toy as a training tool for The Heek because he loves them so much. I’ve tried the metallic clicker and a dog whistle but when he’s spotted another dog they do little to divert him. However the sound of a squeaky toy sends him into a frenzy of delight so that, combined with a treat may be the answer.

24 hour drinking and the British booze culture. Alcohol is fattening!

We are becoming more like the USA and using cars for the shortest journey. As roads become more congested, more and more are being built rather than alternatives sought.

Schools have been asked to improve nutrition for children and parents are urged to change their habits but manufacturers are still allowed to churn out high fat, highly processed foods and target their advertising at families and children.

PC’s, TV’s, DVD’s, hand held games and a culture where television is so important that the results of talent or competitive shows are considered important enough to broadcast on the news.

Our long working hours. Everyones to shattered to exercise.

Sunday trading. We have access to shops and food 7 days a week and have forgotten how to do without, eat less and make do with what we have in the store cupboard.

Gyms. Exercise is seen as a task or leisure pursuit in itself rather than a natural part of daily activities…walking to school or work, gardening, a family game of rounders, dance class, a long country walk.

The availability cheap, mass produced food stuffs so that we no longer respect food as something which we should be grateful to have, but as something which is always there in abundance.

The snack culture which means that children are not as hungry as they should be when a meal is served. They can be picky about eating vegetables because they know that they can have a bag of crisps if they get peckish rather than waiting until the next meal.

Our inability to cook. The popularity of the umpteen cookery programmes does not indicate that people cook but rather that they sit and watch celebrity chefs cook.

Our society is purely surveillance with CCTV everywhere,  employers and advertisers tracking our website surfing habits, ,stores using reward cards to get information about our spending habits. Our mobile phone and credit card use is being watched and recorded by somebody and even our rubbish will be surveyed.  Most of this ensuring we ae targetted by advertisers or charged.

On top of the hefty tax we pay out of our wages we pay council tax, car tax, VAT on umpteen products and inheritance tax when we snuff it and leave our property to our loved ones. Rather than using any other methods to reduce speed, discourage parking illegally we are fined and now the answer to binge drinking- rather than reviewing the 24 hour licensing hours, raising the legal drinking limit to 21 and educating people about alcohol, guess what - prices might be raised to cure the problem!

Traffic police sit in surreptitious places waiting to catch those who are speeding or not displaying a car parking ticket while 999 calls can take hours to get a response. And if they don’t get you there are now camera surveillance teams monitoring areas where you may stop illegally for a few minutes - while at the controls of your car - which will ensure a £60 fine is in the post. Unfortunately they don’t discriminate if you had to stop due to circumstances such as somebody running out in front of your car or running into you so you stop to exchange insurance details.

The congestion charge in London is another way to raise revenue.

Soon a cough or a sneeze will cost you!

It is 10am, the sun is shining and I’ve just taken the Heek for a walk wearing a tee-shirt because it is so mild, despite the cold and frosty night.

I walked through the church yard and over a little wooden plank bridge to a meadow and round, back to the far side of the castle. Along the way we were serenaded by birds singing their hearts out in the bushes and trees. A sparrow was collecting bits of dry grass and a blackbird carried twigs in his beak.

I saw snowdrops in whispering clusters under the yew trees, while random bunches of daffodils sprout everywhere, adding their cheerful yellow trumpets to the increasingly colourful graveyard.

It is half-term and children are out on bikes, playing in the grounds of the castle, their chirrupping voices similar to bird song and they too are wearing tee-shirts.

I wonder if summer will arrive in April?

There aren’t many of these around but whenever I spot them I can’t understand why BT decided to replace them with horrible grey and beige efforts.

The red ones are mostly in quaint village locations and always look cheerful and homely. In the days when we didn’t have mobiles you can imagine how welcome a sight they were. Travellers whose car had broken down, walking through dark lanes, a little elderly lady without a phone, having her weekly chat with her sister, a child with friends, giggling as they ask if they can stay to tea.

Fortunately the post office have retained red post boxes. Long may they continue.

The only thing I can’t understand is why they chose to make dog poo bins the same colour

Here lies Ann Mann, Who lived an old maid But died an old Mann. Dec. 8, 1767

Tom Smith is dead, and here he lies, Nobody laughs and nobody cries; Where his soul’s gone, or how it fares, Nobody knows, and nobody cares. Newbury, England [1742]

Here lies the body of Margaret Bent. She kicked up her heels and away she went.
Winterborn Steepleton Cemetery, Dorsetshire, England

She was a suicide blonde -
Dyed by her own hand.

On a dentist: Stranger tread this ground with gravity.
Dentist Brown is filling his last cavity.
Edinburgh, Scotland.

Beneath this stone lies a merry lass
Who aimed for the brake and hit the gas.

This stone was raised by Sara’s Lord. Not Sara’s virtues to record For they are known to all the town. This stone was raised to keep her down.
Kilmurry Churchyard, Ireland

Grim death took me without any warning
I was well at night and dead at nine in the morning”,
Kent

Here lies Oakford Grain
Saw a light at the end of the tunnel
It was a train

“Here lies Johnny Yeast. Pardon me for not rising.”