Country diary: Butterflies are having a ball this year I feared for our beloved swallows too, but they arrived, a fortnight late. The mud puddle in the middle of my farmyard has once more been a huge success. Much to my relief we again seem to have seven pairs, and the young from the first broods are already flying. The mud from the puddle has been well used. Now house martins from the other end of the village are using it. When Martin Pope, the Telegraph photographer, arrived the other day, so did some house martins at the puddle. I had to assure him that they had not been tamed. I am still struggling to understand why the house martins fly some distance to the farmyard but refuse to build their nests on some of the farm buildings, which to my eyes appear to be perfect. If only every farm, garden and village pond would make wet mud easily available, our swallows and house martins would benefit enormously. We just keep the puddle wet every day with half a bucket of water. No - please don't tell me - now I suppose I'll get a visit from "environmental health" or "elf and safety." Speaking of health and safety, what an intrusion those idiotic yellow signs are: "Danger of Death," on every single pole carrying an electric cable or wire, large or small. What nonsense and what a waste of time, money and effort. Last year in my road two men with a Land Rover were attaching new signs - they refused to tell me how much they were being paid to do their ridiculous job. But step forward the wonderful Kate Hoey MP. If only parliament had just four members - Kate Hoey, Zac Goldsmith, Richard Benyon and Norman Lamb - the country would be in a much better state. Kate recently invited Lulu and me to visit her home in Northern Ireland - or more accurately in the Irish Sea, between Co Antrim, the Mull of Kintyre and Islay, on Rathlin Island. What a place, with just 80 inhabitants, plus 200,000 feathered summer visitors and a smattering of tourists. It has an excellent little museum; a community-run shop - and it also has a fair number of electricity poles. The amazing thing is that not one pole has the "Danger of Death" notice attached, and not one of them has a pile of dead and dying people beneath them - so perhaps the poles are not so dangerous after all. How such a beautiful island can have so many poles is a mystery. The technology is available to put electric cables underground now relatively cheaply, so why don't the electricity companies or the government do it? It would be a much better use of money than the billions intended for the absurd and environmentally destructive HS2 - the high-speed rail link between London and northern England, a pure Dozy Dave "trophy" project if ever there was one. At one National Trust council meeting I listened to an individual boasting of the jobs the railway would create - I asked: "What sort of jobs? Boring jobs in warehouses? Serving in coffee shops? Or like some of the jobs you've got? He appeared lost for words. The sea bird colonies and wildflowers of Rathlin Island were stunning, including the rare pyramidal bugle. The views from the RSPB seabird centre were incredible, and the wardens and volunteers were extremely helpful and pleasant - but most were also embarrassed. The RSPB was offering a free T-shirt for each new member who signed on the dotted line, and the T-shirts had the silhouette of birds on the front. One bore the inscription "Great Tits" across the chest and another simply "Shag" - all right to be worn at a binge-drinking hen party or stag night I suppose, but not on display at a place for families. Yet another indication of the RSPB dumbing down and going for the "yoof" market, I suppose. Apart from taking umbrage at adolescent, sexist T-shirts - and she is no prude - Lulu was also disappointed that there were no signs of basking sharks. If the RSPB guaranteed to show her one she would almost certainly forgive them and join, although, of course, a basking shark isn't a bird - but that no longer seems to be important to the RSPB.