It was another hot day and the flies were waiting to accompany me on my walk. Flies are so dependable. The first part of the walk was along minor roads and thats about all I remember. Sorry. But thats what happens. I walk for a few days – I upload my photos onto Flickr. Then when I come to write my blog I stare at the OS map on my computer and try to remember where Ive been, what I saw of note and how to make this blog scintillating and exciting for you, dear reader.
But every minor road takes on the appearance of another minor road. Sometimes I get flashbacks when the curve of a road will remind me of another perhaps a thousand miles away. The constants are the smells – and the colours and the sounds and the light. The feel of sweat cooling on my back on a hot day and the smell of a warm t shirt I have been wearing all day. The smell of carrion and road kill. The smell of sweet honeysuckle and wild roses growing in the hedge rows. The sounds – oyster catchers with their wheeling high pitched warning squeals of alarm. Invisible skylarks pinned to the blue skies overhead. The burst of the delicate wild flowers that cling to cliff tops, -and far off i see the gannets shearwaters and terns that spear themselves into sparkling waters in search of a mackerel. The rustle of a deer in dense woods that I may catch a quick glimpse of its white rump as it bounds through the undergrowth.
All very well of course – but you really have to be here.