A walk in the rain
Up fairly early and brought Lorraine breakfast in bed, before getting into my walking gear and being collected by Anton. As we drove to West Hoathly down wooded roads, Anton's sat nav went into night mode a few times as it was so dark under downpour of dark clouds. We walk into the lovely wooded landscapes around West Hoathly. Now transformed into a relive the Somme experience.
Beautiful country, however, and we were soon lost. Finding ourselves in a forest at a time when the deluge was at its strongest. Still we had a really nice walk and a good chat. Something wild and lovely about walking in bad weather, and there is no better way of letting conversation fall out slowly.
After a couple of hours, having accidentally found West Hoathly again, we neared Anton's lovely BMW convertible for the return drive home. As we did so, the clouds absconded. A dreamlike return journey sitting in heated seats, with the roof down narrow rainwashed lanes, everything gleaming with sunshine including the still-dripping trees, a few drips pinging off my head. The sky almost completely blue.
A hot shower once home and a cup of tea. Drifted to sleep for an hour on the sofa, then Lorraine and I had a very nice evening with Beth and John round, playing Euchre and drinking wine and listening to music. John and Lorraine beat Beth and me at Euchre for almost the first time, which John seemed rather pleased about.
Below an E.H. Shepard Anton, a path, a ghostly plume of steam Anton spotted drifting out of the tunnel at West Hoathly from the Bluebell line, with no sign of the train that had left it.
Beautiful country, however, and we were soon lost. Finding ourselves in a forest at a time when the deluge was at its strongest. Still we had a really nice walk and a good chat. Something wild and lovely about walking in bad weather, and there is no better way of letting conversation fall out slowly.
After a couple of hours, having accidentally found West Hoathly again, we neared Anton's lovely BMW convertible for the return drive home. As we did so, the clouds absconded. A dreamlike return journey sitting in heated seats, with the roof down narrow rainwashed lanes, everything gleaming with sunshine including the still-dripping trees, a few drips pinging off my head. The sky almost completely blue.
A hot shower once home and a cup of tea. Drifted to sleep for an hour on the sofa, then Lorraine and I had a very nice evening with Beth and John round, playing Euchre and drinking wine and listening to music. John and Lorraine beat Beth and me at Euchre for almost the first time, which John seemed rather pleased about.
Below an E.H. Shepard Anton, a path, a ghostly plume of steam Anton spotted drifting out of the tunnel at West Hoathly from the Bluebell line, with no sign of the train that had left it.
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