Since the blog became public, I’ve been finding it harder to write anything and have gone visual in a big way. This is a shame because its whole point is that this is a record of my time down here.
There was a time when I would just go: “Blah, blah, blah. Went for a walk to Aisholt. Glorious day. Walked for three hours. It was hilly, very hilly. I saw cows and sheep.”
So, anyway, while I was out, I ate something growing by the side of the bridle path, which I thought was a redcurrant, then I spat it out because I wasn’t sure, and now I’m glad I did because it wasn’t one. But I don’t know what it was. There doesn’t seem to be a website with images of ‘things that look like redcurrants but will poison you’. So if I don’t come home, someone please tell them it was this (picture enlarges if you click on it, they all do):
The church in Aisholt is really pretty – I’ve been there twice already, according to the visitors book – they still haven’t changed the pen, which runs out before you can get to the end of your comment, so that it reads: ‘very peaceful, look forward to visiting aga so’.
It’s possibly one of the smallest churches I’ve ever seen, tucked down in the folds of the hills, not quite at the bottom of the valley but almost. At the bottom of the valley is a house that Wordsworth almost rented. It’s a pretty, white, thatched house with a stream at the bottom of the garden. But gloomy. No wonder he went off to the Lake District.
There’s also a farm in Aisholt that grows turf. This takes so much land. Grow it from seed, that’s what I say, and grow something we can eat in its place. Having said that, they have a pallet of turf rolls outside and an honesty box. And of course, I have bought some, because Lady-Vendor took her bird bath with her when she moved out and left a square of bare earth right bang in the middle of the path up the middle of the garden. I did try seed but it wasn’t very successful in the shade of the Japanese maple. So I will have to eat my words, or the turf, or something.
Oh, and I found an old lime kiln by the side of the lane (this area is covered in them because of all the disused quarries round about – it’s where they used to process the limestone being dug out to extract the quicklime which was useful for farming and other things) and some rather sick trees. I wonder what’s wrong with them – I’ve seen this in other parts of the county as well.
And there was temptation in the form of a notice about springer spaniel puppies for sale. Not fair.
There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? Or interesting. Oh well. This really is for me. Yes it is.
Postscript: jaw dropping moment – someone just walked past the house, on the field side. That never happens, never. (The maize has finally been harvested, so that I have my view back, which is nice.) But what is going on?
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