Littoral Fringes of the New Forest

Many of us would like to have a corner of the earth with which we have a special connection. But I suspect I am not alone in finding myself pulled in two directions: there is the place where I was brought up, on the fringes of the New Forest and the edge of the largeContinue reading “Littoral Fringes of the New Forest”

In Search of Nine Wells

There is a local beauty spot just next to Addenbrookes Hospital, Cambs, called Nine Wells. Here in a small wood several springs rise from a chalk aquifer and wind their way through hidden water-courses amongst beech trees and scrub. A magical place, but these days very close indeed to ‘civilisation’ – an entire city ofContinue reading “In Search of Nine Wells”

Ascent! A walk to the highest point in Cambridgeshire

A morning walk on the borders of Cambridgeshire and Essex, shimmering fine rain, heavy cloud and bursts of sun. A sultry, thickened end of summer day. The village of Great Chishill is marked on the OS map as being 479 feet above sea level, giving its fortunate residents expansive views over a land of sprawlingContinue reading “Ascent! A walk to the highest point in Cambridgeshire”

A ramble in South Cambs

  Coton, pronounced with the first 0 long as in Seb Coe, is the nearest village to  Cambridge on the west side. Beyond the village wide, lazy cornfields open out, glowing in the morning  heat at this sultry end of July. After a mile or so a small wood closes in:   amber shades frettingsContinue reading “A ramble in South Cambs”

A Berkshire Wood in Spring

The Berkshire Downs, not open country but deep woodland scaling the hillside. Just after rain, wandering through the heavy feast of rain soaked boughs, green shadows dripping all around me, festering silence, rich but a little sinister. Solitary dog walkers loom out of the stillness, a black labrador bounds up, then disappears into the resinyContinue reading “A Berkshire Wood in Spring”

Editor’s Blog – notes from an English village

A summer evening in Granchester   There have been times when I well might have passed and the ending have come– Points in my path when the dark might have stolen on me, artless, unrueing… Thomas Hardy, ‘In Tenebris’ It is cooler now and the meadows have lost the smouldering Tuscan gleam they had lastContinue reading “Editor’s Blog – notes from an English village”

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