As I may have already mentioned, I am not a keen driver. I do it because I have to. I don’t dread the more familiar domestic journeys, but longer excursions are not so welcome. Needs must. We all have our crosses to bear, and to be honest there are much heavier loads.
However, there are days when it seems less of a chore. Today was one. Today I drove to The Mantle’s estate. Quite often on this particular journey, one that takes me from town to the edge of Exmoor, I imagine experiencing it for the first time. In my head I commentate as I travel along the way, pointing out highlights. The views of bracken hills, the flowering gorse, the fast running ford, glimpses of sea, the beech hedges and winding roads which lead to narrowing lanes. A close encounter of the buzzard kind, road running blackbirds and the memory of snowdrops that are yet to come.
On the estate Peggy the cockerlab or poobrador or something like that, was in residence, more teddy bear than canine. Over coffee The Mantles and myself chatted about yogic ear plugs. We had homemade bread and toasted cheese for lunch and mince pies for pudding. Oh, and we did some gardening.
On the way home I startled a flock of goldfinches, glinting as they flitted away.