Saturday 14th August 2021
Wheear ’ast tha bin sin ‘ah saw thee, ah saw thee? Wheear ’ast tha bin sin ‘ah saw thee, ah saw thee? A question that could have been asked of Brian today as he returned from 8 weeks in the wilderness.
With just the three of us available (DH, RW, BFS & Scrumpy) a short local walk was repeated from last years collection (see https://hiltern.wixsite.com/healthwalks/post/what-a-sight)
The view from the top of Cucklington village never fails to delight and we stood for a few minutes just taking it all in and discussing the noticeable absence of cattle in the fields as we looked out above the rooftops of some typical Somerset village properties across the wide fertile fields of the Blackmore Vale. Heading out in a northerly direction the walk along the ridge line continues to provide great views as we passed the Union flag fluttering atop the church and after a brief stop to test some very juicy looking sloe berries we were soon in the open fields and Scrumpy was off the lead. She was certainly missing company this week, as Sully continues to make good progress following his operation, but at least she had no one to lead her astray.
As we continued along the ridge we approached a farmer in her Land Rover out checking their stock and with Scrumpy back on her lead, we were soon joined by the inquisitive farm dog which from a distance looked like the ubiquitous Collie but when closer certainly wasn’t. It certainly teased poor Scrumpy a bit with a few snarls before been sent on its way.
Talk soon turned to the thoroughbred of the farms for the last 50 years or more, the Land Rover Defender, which was left with door open and keys in the ignition on the other side of the gate. Probably at least 30 years of sterling service under its belt, its remaining years no doubt confined to the tracks and fields as it certainly was not in a very roadworthy condition, Would there every be anything as good produced in the future to replace them?
Arriving at the farm we turned left and started the descent off the ridge line and passed the very run down house, which looks like it has about 10 years left in it before it takes a rapid turn for the worse if nothing is done. If only I had the money, time, energy and health!
We continued to make good progress as we made our way across the fields, through gates and stiles and over little bridges as we approached the bottom of Stoke Trister village before heading back towards Cucklington, with the view of the climb to come in front of us. It wasn’t long before we hit the road and started the climb. Why is it that the amount of prior descent always seems far less that the amount of ascent?
Slow and steady is the best option and with only the occasional brief stop (to admire a cottage garden or two) we were soon passing the end of the church track and back up to the car. Surprisingly only 8 minutes quicker than the last time around the loop, considering then we had to find the paths and crossings for the first time.
Heading into Gillingham for breakfast we attempted to try the Astra cafe for the first time, but with car parking space hard to find and most tables taken we decided to retire to Thorngrove where we knew a good breakfast awaited us.
With 3 men of fine Yorkshire heritage sat around the table, thoughts turned to that most famous of Monty Python sketches, copied/edited below:
Aye, very passable, that, very passable bit of breakfast
Nothing like a good glass of jus d‘orange, eh, Brian?
You're right there, Dave
Who'd have thought Richard that thirty year ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking jus d’orange, eh?
In them days we was glad to have the price of a cup o' tea
A cup o' cold tea
Without milk or sugar
Or tea
In a cracked cup, an' all
Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper
The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth
But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor
Because we were poor. My old Dad Rex used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son"
Aye, 'e was right
Aye, 'e was
I was happier then and I had nothin'. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof
House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling
Eh, you were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in t' corridor!
Oh, we used to dream of livin' in a corridor! Would ha' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House? Huh
Well, when I say 'house' it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us
We were evicted from our 'ole in the ground; we 'ad to go and live in a lake
You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us living in t' shoebox in t' middle o' road
Cardboard box?
Aye
You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt
Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at mill for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night and lick road clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at mill for sixpence every four years, and when we got home our Dad would slice us in two wit' bread knife
Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah
And you try and tell the young people of today that ... they won't believe you
They won't!
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