The beauty of crowds.

The term 'flash-mob' usually conjures up images of people stripping a store of its contents en masse, or a lightning strike demonstration by a group of concerned individuals.

I like flash-mobs, I may not agree with something they are demonstrating against or for, I certainly don't agree with a pack of criminals picking some poor sod's shop clean, but I do like the dynamic, especially in terms of demonstration, where a group of people can turn up and leave the authorities completely exposed and unprepared for the crowd. There's something energising about it, even if it can result in destruction of property and vandalism. I suppose my delight comes from the fact that some people still realise that they can get together and organise themselves without the all pervasive hand of the State coming in to co-ordinate.

There are many motivations for flash-mobbing, and the below is one of the most beautiful I've seen, or more correctly perhaps, heard. The motivation here is commercial, it is clearly a low-cost, viral ad. But it is a thing of rare beauty.

Sit back, watch, listen, enjoy and think how thrilling it must have been to have had that going on about you with no warning at all.

The One That Is Very Fortunate. . .

No political ranting today.

This afternoon Mrs. Wolfers and I took a walk along the River Stour onto Hambrook Marshes, minus the wolf proper as it is too hot for her and she's still recovering from a bilateral cruciate operation. Despite living in the centre of Canterbury these meadows are only a ten minute walk from my front door, through one of the city's parks.

There's a herd of wild horses, a Belgian breed, that live on this meadow, having been introduced by one of the local wildlife charities. They weren't there today - a shame. They're very friendly and enjoy having a scratch.

Settings like this, with a gentle breeze, some fluffy clouds scudding across the sky and the sound of the crickets in the long grass, along with what can almost be described as an infestation of the most striking electric blue damsel flies, served to remind me that with all that is wrong with this country, there are still some parts of it that are undeniably England.

Misty eyed nostalgia for a bygone age that probably never existed? Probably, but it is real shame that so few things are as perfect as this place.

Lovely.