I wonder, O wall...

I've been thinking about walls this morning, because that's where last night's most interesting moths were to be found. The trap and its eggboxes provided overnight accommodation for 14 Common Quakers, five Clouded Drabs, three Hebrew Characters, two Small Quakers, one Twin-spotted Quaker and one Early Grey; but the wall of the house a few feet away had the lovely Oak Beauty above, the three Early Greys in various nooks below, and  the very well-concealed Hebrew Character in the photo after that.

I had myself been in Hebrew character earlier on in the evening, since I'm playing an obstreperous but rather dim priest in this year's UK must-see event, the Woodstock Passion Play.

That's a diversion from moths, although our rehearsal in the Methodist chapel was given the good omen of a Small Tortoiseshell so fascinated by our antics that it awoke from hibernation - see pic bravely taken at a great distance by our friend and eggbox supplier Ali, who was called a wench by Simon o Cyrenae. There was also a small, orangey micro-moth whirring about, so I'd say that all is set fair.

Two other wall thoughts, unrelated to moths. As I searched the eggboxes, I found myself humming those verses from school Latin lessons which have always made me very tolerant of graffiti because it has such a long pedigree. From Pompeii: 'I wonder O wall, that your stones do not fall, so scribbled upon by the nonsense of all.' The Romans and Greeks also had irritating youth, corrupt officials and over-enthusiastic spies, none of which are modern inventions.

And finally, Sir Winston Churchill enjoyed building walls, which is an appealing side of his character. He also tried to reintroduce the Black-veined White butterfly to its former haunts in Kent, asking the then famous 'Butterfly man' L Hugh Newman to prepare a scheme with the characteristic instruction: 'Send me your plan and let it be a plan of action'.  Alas, the experiment failed.

Sir Winston builds a wall. But where are his moths?