Last week I mentioned that Easter had been a pleasant enough weekend, but it turns out that there was at least one uncomfortable soul around at the time. My friend B ate an entire package of candy Peeps as well as some Easter chocolate for breakfast, and it made her feel unwell for at least half the day.

This is hardly surprising.

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Here is a note from a reader who somewhat sympathizes with my experience of the Wagernian Eastertide endurance test called "Parsifal," as mentioned last week.

"Having suffered through the radio broadcast of "Parsifal" on Easter Sunday (one knows one should appreciate Wagner), I thoroughly enjoyed your review of the opera — perhaps the best Wagner synopsis ever, after Anna Russell's. After cleaning up the mess on my desk caused by the involuntary expulsion of coffee through my nose, I forwarded the column to my husband, who in a characteristic fit of Calvinistic masochism had just purchased a ticket to see "Das Rheingold" at the Met when he is in New York later this month. Strange man.

"On another topic, have you considered confining the Rockland City Council to a small room and forcing them to listen to the Ring Cycle until they agree to do something about the state of the roads?"

Ladies and gentlemen, our problems with local government and our highways are apparently solved, for who among our band of elected officials could withstand the recorded efforts of Mr. Wagner for more than 20 minutes?

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Last week I said that someone had eaten whale meat in Iceland and reported that it tasted like beef. I heard later from another person who also ate whale meat in Iceland, who said it tasted quite different.

I suppose we will never know for sure, as I don’t expect whale to be sold around here any time soon. I once saw ostrich meat for sale in Rockland, and kangaroo meat in Portland. Buffalo is fairly commonplace these days, I am told. I ate some once at Fabulous Bob’s and it tasted like beef. Or perhaps it was whale.

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Last Friday afternoon they held a little party at the Courier offices on Camden Street, to mark the anniversary of the resurrection of the dear old newspaper after it was closed by the previous owners in March 2012.

As newsroom parties go I am obliged to report it was a rather sober event. The chief offerings were cake and coffee, which just goes to show how much things have changed in the years since I was first in newspapers.

I realize not everybody drinks alcohol, and that some people think it is a form of liquid sin. Many avoid it for good reason. But in its right place it can usually be relied upon to inject a bit more enthusiasm into the conversation than cake and coffee. It can also deliver a temporary measure of strength in difficult times.

How do you think I was able to stand living on top of these concrete towers during those bitter howling storms and those long black nights we had this winter, without completely losing my grip? Even so, I must admit there were some rough moments. One day this spring when my nerves have settled down a bit I might share with you some selected details of that experience. Or maybe not.

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Terrible O’Meara is home from Florida, having successfully worn out all the friends to whom he attached himself to for the last few months. I am sure they are now beginning to recover from his visits, while now it is our turn to have him again. Sigh.

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By the way, I was talking about candy Peeps and forgot to say what else I heard about them.

Apparently if you heat a Peep in the microwave it will grow and grow and grow until it resembles a full-size hen. Then, at the last moment, it will collapse into some sort of sugary Peep-dust and simply dissolve.

I have not tried this personally, but feel free to give it a shot yourselves.

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Now let us turn for a minute to the book of nature, and get a summary of things as they stand.

I heard of a blackish colored butterfly which is said to have been seen last week in Rockport. This might be a true report, or else it might have been a piece of burnt paper flying around in the wind.

I saw a lone robin at Fabulous Bob’s on Saturday afternoon, and have heard and seen bands of starlings in the trees. Robins are supposed to be a good sign.

In the mud yard at Linden Street, the chives are showing green in the little patch of them near the broken cement slab under the back steps. The tulips also seem to be coming back, although it usually takes until about Mother's Day before the colored petals bloom on them. Then the squirrels come down from the maples and try to eat the petals.

And although they do not belong in the book of nature, I have also seen a couple of motorcycles on the road. This is usually a good thing, suggesting the weather is no longer horrid enough to keep them in hibernation.

So far, not a sound from the spring peepers, either the ones at Ash Point, the ones near the golf course, or those beyond the tracks at Crescent and Thomaston streets. Only the Easter Peeps, as mentioned above.

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Twice lately, first thing in the morning and again at dusk, I have seen a black cat on the north tower. How it gets up here I am not sure. Will keep an eye on this situation, and see how it develops. It’s not clear how the Four Seagulls of the Apocalypse will handle this situation, as birds and cats are not natural friends.

By the way, the dead gull found in O’Meara’s chimney this winter proved not to be one of ours after all.

David Grima is a former editor with Courier Publications. He can be reached at or by imitating spring peepers.