Marching out of step

On 1 March, who goes fishing for trout? Not many, I warrant, though the sun may shine on the fatal date — but will it? And flies may buzz along the boundary ditch — but will they?

Flies are unlikely to buzz in early spring of 1963, though it has to be admitted that on 1 February — about the coldest evening of the winter — a demented and gigantic queen wasp emerged from heaven knows where to provide a stirring hunt round the sitting room, during which the terrier nearly made a kill and the grandchild, for some reason best known