Last Sunday I went on a ride locally around Hertfordshire. I was intending to go further afield, but the weather was looking rather ominous, the type of weather that will keep away, or dump down in bucketsful within a split second. So I decided to go and discover the web of back country lanes in and around my local county. Along the way I met a cyclist who gave me some good tips on roads to take to Saffron Walden, a beautiful Medieval town, about 20 miles north. The winding roads took me through a fascinating insight of English country life. It is a specilaised culture, and it is not until you can see these backroads you being to understand the beauty, the obsession with gardens, the uniqueness, the quirkiness, the isolation, the pride with which the English place upon their home and how deeply personal that is for them.
I witnessed also some other quintessentially English sights - such as the cricket match on the Green, several in fact. The most beautiful was in the grounds of Auld House, simply magnificent grounds a la Brideshead Revisted. The other, which I kind of preferred, was the match in a more simple village, obviously the equivalent of the local yobs (in perfect cricket whites rather than stubby shorts and tank tops, though beer guts were keenly evident) playing away with great gusto. I swear that Father Christmas was wicket keeping for one of the teams. I really regret not haven taken a photo, but how this guy assumed the keeping position with such agility was beyond me. He had manic long white hair, a white beard that was equally impressivbe and was obviously having the time of his life.
All I have to show of this day is a photo of my bike. I had to stop for a short break - it became opressively hot and humid and I took a stop to take some water. The inscription on the bench was in memory of a couple who evidently wanted to pass on the message that life is a journey, a short one, so live happily, grateful for the small pleasures. I must have meant to stop there.
The summer weather continues into the week, much to the amazement of, well almost everyone! The English - and you also tend to take up this behaviour as well - have an inbuilt expectation that the weather will turn sour. But the warm weather just keeps coming. Oh my goodness! We ought to complain about something, so let it be that the weather is TOO WARM! It's true, as much as am learning to accept and even appreciate the English, the Whingeing Pom is not a fiment of imagination. It is a Lifestyle.
Anyway, the comnection with the above photo is that this is the direct view I have out to the Garden, as I sit on mybed and type away. A wonderful privilege. It's late morning so the shadow is cast far into the garden. You the swing, the steps, the lake. My little world.
Meet Jack (6) and Ellie (3). Pete and Liz' chidren. Over the past year and half I have become a common fixture in their life. They are kids and timeframe is not really understood. But apparently they ofen ask for several days where 'Big Emma' is after I have visited.
I taught Jack to throw a frisbee. He is quite good. Ellie is still a little diva with the attention span of a flea, but at the same time scarily intelligent. This picture was taken after - you guessed it - a big slice of chololate cake was eaten, smeared and enjoyed to the max!
