as they have for much of the last week or so.
"Let's go to the telephone box and get some new books!"
A mile or so beyond the boundary of the town
in a hamlet with a suspiciously ficticious-sounding name
there is a small community library
located in a decommissioned telephone kiosk
situated far enough from town
to be safe from the attentions of gangs of bored teenagers
looking to get their kicks from mindless vandalism.
Here you can chose from the selection of the books on offer
and donate those you have read for others to enjoy.
If we lived on a busy thoroughfare,
I would have liked to have an American-style library in the front garden -
housed in a glass fronted cabinet,
complete with pitched roof and mounted on a single post.
However we live in a typical modern suburban end of close situation,
where no-one but the few residents and delivery drivers go,
unless they have missed the turning they didn't realise that they needed to take.
That happens a lot.
Unfamiliar vehicle with confused looking driver,
yeah they missed the turning.
Either that or they fail to grasp the ridiculous numbering system in our road,
which leaves the highest numbered house
at the end of a dead end half way down on the right hand side.
Thinking about it, every road I have lived in since leaving home
has had a bonkers numbering system!
Having made our selections we looked around at the pastoral landscape.
The cloudscape was dramatic,
"Shall we go to Hanbury and see the clouds?"
"Is it up this road?" asked my confused chauffer.
"No, we need to go back to the main road and head towards Droitwich."
At that moment a couple appeared,
carrier bag in hand,
walking up the road towards the library.
"More stock!" whispered my fellow traveller,
"We will have to wait until they have gone
before we can go and see what books they have donated."
Alas, there is a post box next to the library,
Alas, there is a post box next to the library,
and the bag only contained letters,
not adventures and murders,
printed and bound
for our edification.
We hit the road.
Since mid March our excursions out have been rare
and usually restricted to the town where we live or its immediate environs.
As we chugged along the Salt Way,
we were struck by how far a journey of about five miles seemed.
Pre-lockdown, days out often clocked up around 100 miles on the trip counter,
as there is a vast array of places within a 50 mile radious of our town.
Our perception of distance has changed.
It wasn't that the country miles were any longer,
just that we have become more accostomed to walking than travelling by car
and for our journeys to be much, much shorter.
During those five miles,
the dark clouds attempted to deter us
by treating us to a downpour.
We parked in the woods
and walked down the track to the small pool,
carefully socially distancing
from a free-roaming hound and owner
as they passed the sign exhorting dog owners
to 'Please keep dogs on a lead'.
We walked on through the woodland,
taking a slight detour
to admire the rain failing over the distant hills.
We climbed the hill to Hanbury Churchyard,
pausing to admire the butterflies and moths enjoying this natural oasis
of uncultivated grass bank.
The churchyard provides a magnificent viewpoint over a sweep of countryside,
from the Malverns in the East,
the costwolds to the south east
and the ridge to the west
The church is normally open,
offering hospitality to pilgrims,
even if they do not yet know
that this is what they are.
Today the doors were firmly closed,
but there is a glimmer of hope.
The doors will be open for private prayer on Wednesdays.
I pray the enforced closures will be the catalyst
for a society searching for santuary and spirituality.
If all they seek are refreshments and toilets
they will be disappointed,
for as the sign clearly states
they will not be available.
Welcome to the strangeness of 2020.
Since mid March our excursions out have been rare
and usually restricted to the town where we live or its immediate environs.
As we chugged along the Salt Way,
we were struck by how far a journey of about five miles seemed.
Pre-lockdown, days out often clocked up around 100 miles on the trip counter,
as there is a vast array of places within a 50 mile radious of our town.
Our perception of distance has changed.
It wasn't that the country miles were any longer,
just that we have become more accostomed to walking than travelling by car
and for our journeys to be much, much shorter.
During those five miles,
the dark clouds attempted to deter us
by treating us to a downpour.
We parked in the woods
and walked down the track to the small pool,
carefully socially distancing
from a free-roaming hound and owner
as they passed the sign exhorting dog owners
to 'Please keep dogs on a lead'.
We walked on through the woodland,
taking a slight detour
to admire the rain failing over the distant hills.
pausing to admire the butterflies and moths enjoying this natural oasis
of uncultivated grass bank.
The churchyard provides a magnificent viewpoint over a sweep of countryside,
from the Malverns in the East,
the costwolds to the south east
and the ridge to the west
The church is normally open,offering hospitality to pilgrims,
even if they do not yet know
that this is what they are.
Today the doors were firmly closed,
but there is a glimmer of hope.
The doors will be open for private prayer on Wednesdays.
I pray the enforced closures will be the catalyst
for a society searching for santuary and spirituality.
If all they seek are refreshments and toilets
they will be disappointed,
for as the sign clearly states
they will not be available.
Welcome to the strangeness of 2020.
No comments:
Post a Comment