the magic of J S Bach

After some beautiful sunny and mild days, almost a week of it, the cold and predominantly grey skies are back. But there's no denying that a shy spring is here.

This is today's view on my walk along the river. I can see potential.

As I walked, I noticed a man with two lurchers. He was wearing an impressive outfit of waxed hunting jacket and one of these Aussie slough hats, and he was deep into making a show of his dog training methods, lots of clicking and sharp words and obedience. He also did this smack in the middle of the cycle path necessitating cyclists to stop or moving onto the grass to avoid hitting him or the dogs. It was quite the spectacle. When I got closer, I realised that this was the local representative of the far right nazi party. Some time back last year during one of the election campaigns I had made the mistake of attempting a debate on something or other at his party's road side stall and it culminated in him blocking my way - getting far too close - and shouting in my face, sue me, sue me, if you dare, you stupid cow. Then he was still sporting that silly upper lip moustache, which - for reasons - has now disappeared.

Anyway, in the recent general election, his despicable party got exactly 7.9% of the vote in this city. So I decided it was not worth my while to observe more of his dramatics and just there and then, the beautiful music algorithm of my smartphone started to play a piece of Bach and I turned back to the river as a barge with a name tag Inspiration floated by, and I felt a wave of relief that my country has also been home to this gifted composer and that his work endures and continues to bring such joy on a foggy day.