Sunday, June 04, 2006

In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country 

The boy with the carrier bag ran across the pitch to the pavilion - the ice cream shop didn’t have everything, he explained, and the players laughed some more. Sheep grazed peacefully. It looked like rain.

We walked through fields of buttercups, cow parsley, wild bluebells, lush meadows left to run wild, garlic in the lanes, river beds dry. Eleven good miles, most of them pungent.
On Whernside we looked down on last week’s route, traced our way over the tops, through the woods, back to the viaduct, picked out the high spots.

We laughed at a farmer yelling expletives at his cows in a faraway field - they simply would not shut the gate after themselves, apparently - and sniggered at funny place names.
When it finally rained it was lovely.

Now I smell of sunscreen and motorway delays and egg and chips, and of coming over all pastoral.

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