Sandals and shorts...

When the temperature rises, I swap my walking boots for sandals and trousers for shorts. Apparently, this puts me in the vanguard of fashion, because, according to the writer of this article in the Guardian, shorts for men “are enjoying a renaissance”.

“The display of the elongated leg, from ankle to crotch has, in recent fashion history, almost wholly been the preserve of womenswear. It feels radical to see men playing with these proportions,” says Andrew Groves, professor of fashion design at the University of Westminster. “Suddenly, short shorts seem highly inappropriate, almost profoundly shocking to see.” The shock is the presentation of a male leg in “a highly sexualised and eroticised manner”.

Kati Chitrakorn, the retail and marketing editor of Vogue Business, thinks men are embracing their sexual empowerment: “They’re celebrating a super-sexualised Adonis, relating to their own bodies again as a tool of seduction”. I’ve noticed women eyeing me up recently - a woman behind me in the queue for the butchers actually fainted - and now I know why.

Another delivery pic...

Campsite...

Used in the Guardian today: a campsite overlooked by the Langdale Pikes...

Beeswing...

A live version of Beeswing, Richard Thompson’s best and most bittersweet song: guaranteed to bring a lump to my throat and a tear to my eye...

Stormy skies over Bubwith this evening...

Kentucky Avenue...

Lockdown has definitely made me more lachrymose: ready, at any moment, to enjoy a few cathartic tears. The Guardian is running a countdown of the hundred best singles of all time. We’re down to number 2: Ghost Town, by the Specials. If number one, announced tomorrow, isn’t Like a Rolling Stone, I’ll be vexed. In the meantime I’m compiling my own list: songs which I’m finding particularly poignant in these difficult times. Today’s offering is Kentucky Avenue, by Tom Waits, a wonderfull evocation of an American childhood. From start to finish the song tugs unashamedly at the heart-strings, and I fall for it every time. By the time he sings “I'll take the spokes from your wheelchair…” I’m reaching for a tissue.

Licensed today: main street in Snaith, a typical East Yorkshire village (unless it's a town)...

Conversation...

I feel deprived of challenging conversation. If the Jehovah’s Witnesses were to knock on my door, I’d invite them in to give me an in-depth, socially distanced overview of their loopy belief system in all its tedious detail. To get rid of them, after a couple of hours, I’d suggest they might like to hear my side of the story; that should ensure a stampede towards the door…

Relaxing by the Driffield Canal...

Photo opportunity...

Donald Trump suddenly deployed the army to attack a group of peaceful demonstrators, with tear-gas, rubber bullets and flash grenades, just so he could walk to St John's - the 'Church of the Presidents' - and pose, with a raised Bible, for photographs. I wonder if he’s ever read more than a few verses of the book he’s holding. As well as promoting extreme pacifism (“love your enemies”, “turn the other cheek”, etc), Jesus also advocated violence (“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword”).

The president will be able to find justifications, in the ‘good book’, for his most peaceful and violent tendencies. Currently he prefers the sword, though, of course, he recruits other people to wield the weaponry. According to author Sinclair Lewis, “When fascism comes to America, it will come wrapped in the flag and waving the cross”

Donald J Trump trying - in vain - to look presidential...

Marble run...

Laid up on the sofa today, with gout. My only plan for the day was to get to the end of it. But I clicked a link from an article in the Guardian and found this. Something to do when I finally lose my marbles. It really cheered me up.

Licensed today: a display of caravans...