~ Later, I weed the pond, pulling out many of the waterlily leaves smothering the surface, and some of the floating oxygenating weed too. The water level is parlously low, it is warm and smells rank and oozy, and the slabs around it are almost unbearably hot to hands and knees. I put the hose into it and top it up, an extravagance, but the goldfish, pink-veined white, scarlet and truly gold, come to the surface to thank me, gulping at the air with O-shaped mouths.
~ I didn't pull out any flowering water-lilies,
they are, I think the most shameless vain tarts of flowers, hardly ever take a bad picture. It must be because they live permanently with their own reflections that they think so well of themselves. I keep meaning to go into the park in St Brieuc with the camera, where I've noticed they have lemon yellow ones.