Bartimaeus

Shane's weather forecast predicted heavy rain due at the planned time of departure. He packed his waterproof. In the morning the forecast was more optimistic and it seemed very warm, so we left in the sunshine after all. I was stopping when I saw butterflies by the towpath, but they were not making themselves easy to identify. From watching one flutter, I was sure I had seen a speckled wood, but when it was still it wasn't so easy to tell, but I could still see the odd spot.

The downloaded Big Butterfly Watch charts did have both the open and folded wing view. I saw another kind, orange being the main colour in flight. When it landed, it folded its wings and was hard to line up the camera among the rushes. Now I have had time to do a comparison on the chat I am confident it's a gatekeeper.

As I was trying to capture it, I saw a message pop up from my friend, Margaret. I hurried to catch up with Shane. I guessed that she might be going to talk about butterflies, from the starting phrase of her message. Once we'd reached the train station, I found she had sent me a video of a butterfly to try to identify. It was all aflutter, so was quite a challenge to see either the settled or spread wing pattern, and the best match as far as I could see was a marbled white. It was in my England butterfly id sheet but wasn't in the one for Scotland. This one had been in Aberdeenshire, which was way out of its expected range. So, I  wondered, was it something else not on the Scottish sheet, like a female orange tip, which doesn't have an orange tip. It is a common butterfly but was on neither id sheet, for some reason. From further searches I am unconvinced it is an orange tip though, not white enough on top nor green enough a in the underwing. I am persuaded it could be a marbled white that has headed to Scotland for a holiday, like me!

There were more large white butterflies around Hinckley station but all on the other side of the tracks. Our platform had plenty flower boxes but was in the shade. 

Shane had a plan to change at Stafford where he had found a handy attractive park next to the station when he had been there on a trip he had made solo. It was a great choice and it was warm.

We had time for lunch in the cafe there, where we watched more butterflies from the outside seating and also a robin appeared briefly, getting crumbs beneath the next table, once the humans had gone. Little did I know, but there were lots more birds to see. An aviary had pheasants, budgerigars, canaries, zebra finches, cockatiels, diamond doves and, allegedly, quails. The quails are small, brown, quiet and flightless and if they were there, they evaded me, despite searching. The others were easier to spot and some were very easy to hear too. A woman commented to me about a singing canary. A man was playing his mouth organ to them, trying to elicit a reply. The diamond doves cooed gently to each other. The brain is excellent at filtering out the bars, there were two layers of close square mesh, but the camera, even though I angled it to miss the outer mesh just focused on the wire, not the bird.

Next we went to the glass house. Unlike in botanic gardens, the plants were unlabelled, so the exotic species remained unidentified. This had leaves like a plantain or banana but I couldn't be sure as, if they were, they weren't fully formed yet. 

In the glass house was a pond with fish. They were almost all attracted to the splashing waterfall, blurring their shape as it frothed around them.

Opposite were glass houses within the glass house for African snails called Shelly and Sheldon which were brown on brown earth and bark and a chameleon in another called Bryan, who was was almost easier to see as he was moving and reaching towards us.

A statue, by the water, drew me with its informal stance. Even more unusual, when we got closer, it was situated with the back to the passing park visitors. He seemed to not wish to face anyone, facing the water, not the path.

The park was not very busy, considering all the that was on offer. Even the public convenience was reasonably scenic, having a thatched roof. It was perfectly modern and fully functioning inside.

Shane headed back to the station to find a coffee while I spent some time hoping to get a good look at the various white butterflies dancing around the flower beds. They never settled so I turned my attention to the huge county war memorial. I thought it was a winged horse.

A plaque explained that it was a winged female figure, beside a horse.I could see it better if I viewed it from the street, but it was no clearer in my picture. So exalted was the statue, it's detail was obscured by the light sky. Winged pigeons were real, not part of the statue, though their forebears played an important part in the war.

When we arrived in Edinburgh a torrential downpour had begun. We hid inside the station, browsing in the shop for a while and eating a snack. The rain eased and we stood in the shelter at the entrance waiting for it to stop. While we waited I saw a signpost just in the station entrance, an original sign from the railway, but not from this location, risking disorienting the unwary traveller, unfamiliar with Scotland's geography and the whereabouts of Haymarket station.