Saturday, 12 April 2014


Axminster to Monkton Wyld
The day was sun-suffused and comfortable, and gently rolling hills lead us playfully to our destination at the bottom of a lush valley.  Along the quiet tracks we talked as we rarely get the chance to do in the city - why is this?  We talk all the time at home - we're always talking.  We never stop.  But somehow time is more generous when you're strolling together, in peace and seclusion.  Talk is clearer, we understand each other better, we feel nourished by the talking and understanding.  We feel very close.

There were flowers blossoming luxuriantly along the paths we walked - it seemed very early for flowers.  

Monkton Wyld Court
Living by someone else's rhythm can have profound physical effects.  At Monkton Wyld Court we had to eat dinner with the live-in staff at 6pm.  We ate homemade pizzas in silence, while a woman softly and eerily sang ballads to herself in an old-English traditional style.  They may have been hymns.  After this I went to my room as the sun went down - I curled up in bed, as the room was cold, and I was asleep by 8.30pm.  I woke the next day when the sun came up, at 8am.  This has never happened before.  I guess I felt pretty refreshed by it.

Monkton Wyld to Lyme Regis

Heading to the coast, on a windy and bright morning.  Is this the most idyllic that life can get?  It was definitely the most idyllic part of the day, which slowly descended into a stormy and frightening ordeal.  More of that later.

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