These decorative blobs that have alighted all over town and elsewhere are supposed to be moths. Yeah, I know, you'd never have guessed. Anyhow it's from the same deep pool of idiocy that brought us fibre glass toads to celebrate the death of Philip Larkin; this time the death being celebrated is Amy Johnson's untimely demise in WW2 seventy-five years ago. Nearly sixty of these damn things have been dotted around the place. I've spotted about half a dozen so far and I can assure you I'm not going hunting for the rest. Why moths do I hear you ask? (are you still there?) Well she flew a Gypsy Moth plane, geddit? I know; stooopid. If you're remotely interested in fibre glass lepidoptery there's a gallery of mothy stuff here.