 | ||
| A bank where the wild thyme grows. Old Sule Hay |
 | |||
| Swanny river. Elton |
Day 134
Yesterday, after Parkrun, I packed a pannier and cycled to King's Cross, thence on the train to Peterborough, where I mounted the bike again and pedalled the 11-odd miles to Nassington, the village where my best friend, Fiona Cumberpatch, she of the lovely blog Streetcomber, lives in certain bucolic splendour. Another friend, Tamsin, joined us and we had happy times this bank holiday weekend, walking, eating, reminiscing and messing about in boats. My friend run, but less seriously than I, which is why I woke betimes this Sunday morning and set out to explore the Northamptonshire trails on a quick 12-miler. It was not quick, actually, as I was sleep deprived and still full of food. However, it was refreshing. Deep in the countryside, under wide blue skies, the senses dulled by city living come alive again. I revelled in birdsong and hedgerow berries and blooms. Best of all I snuffed the air with renewed vigour, enjoying the scents of brambles and cut grass, stubble fields and the banks of wild thyme in Old Sule Hay nature reserve. This is England at its sweetest and softest. In the afternoon we took out the family's canoe on the wide, brown, River Nene and watched trout leap and dragonflies hover. A pint of real ale in a country pub, and wine with our roast dinner. Good times indeed, but after the holiday, the taper must preclude alcohol and prioritise sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment