David Hicks' Daily Doings

Watching footage of Ronald Regan's funeral procession on the BBC the other day, a couple of things struck me. First, the fact that he still has Special Branch chaps in full Men In Black uniform (dark suit, dark glasses, humourless expression) preceeding his cavalcade, checking out the crowd for potential assains. Even though he's dead. I just imagine a Special Branch chap getting half way through a bullet-blocking jump - "NOOOOOO - hang on, what am I doing? Sod it, fire away...".

And then there's the BBC commentator: "There doesn't seem to be much sorrow eveident in the crowd.. In fact, everyone seems to be quite cheerfull... Happy, you might say...".

I've been having a bit of trouble sleeping recently. Partly it's the hot weather, but I think the police helicoptor doing what look suspiciously like arial do-nuts right overhead in the middle of the night might have something to do with it.

I mean, how long does it take to catch criminals these days, dammit? You see TV footage and you get the impression that the helicopter gets its man (or woman, as this is the twenty first centrury and women are allowed to be criminals too) every time. I'm starting to think that in reality things aren't quite as simple as that, though.

Hopefully, we'll soon get to a Minority-Report-style situation - as soon as you nick a car, the police helicopter will be on to you, therefore soon no-one will nick cars. Also, I'm still holding out for one of those natty suits with rocket boosters on the sides...

How odd. I've just had a phone call off (a chap claiming to be) Sir Lancelot. Quite well spoken, played the harpsicord well. Seemed keen on talking to me. Hmm. A rummage around the Internet turns up Crank Yankers, an American show involving crank phonecalls being mimed to by puppets. Cool. Do I get to be the voice of a puppet on a Famous American TV Show? That'd be quite neat. Although I hate to think what the phone bill is like for 20-minute transatlantic land-to-mobile calls.

Now, whoever it was, how did they get hold of my mobile phone number and my workplace... in 1999, over the University summer holidays? Hmm.

Never mind your Great Drama From The BBC - the blackbirds nesting outside the kitchen window have been having a pretty dramatic time of it. They laid a nestfull of eggs some weeks ago and have been chasing off assorted threats ever since. First, of course, there's us and the dog. The dog isn't really much interested in blackbirds though, he's more of a squirrell sort of chap.

Then there's the magpies. They make an occasional forray into the garden, but so far a combined bombardment of mummy and daddy blackbird have succeded in driving them out.

There's the competiters for food - two rather soppy collared doves that have set up home in next door's evergreen hedge and a flock of starlings that occasionally passes by.

And - the shock! the suspense! - on Saturday, a hawk made a suprise visit. One second everyone's going about their daily business - the blackbirds rummaging around the lawn for grubs, the doves over near the summerhouse looking for seeds and the starlings arguing with one another in the elder tree - the next everyone's clammering for cover and a hawk is sitting on the back fence with something blackbird sized and shaped in its claws. Could it be the male blackbird? Will mummy blackbird have to bring up the chicks as a single parent? You'll have to wait until I next look out of the window to find out. Cue music: TUM!-TUM!-tuml-tuml-tum-tee, fade to titles...