What an absolute beauty of a Bank Holiday weekend. Bluebells and blue skies in Rutland. I shouldn't really tell you about Rutland because it ought to be kept a secret. It is the tiniest county in the UK. Each year we visit Rutland Water, a reservoir. We walk around it, navigating sheep and cyclists, and listening to silence that is only interrupted by birdsong. For us townies it is, as Dearest says every year, "Soul Food". A cliché which irritates me, as it is also a reminder that he is yet again thinking of his next meal. Which is very tough on someone who is studiously not. But I have to confess that there is more than an ounce of truth in every cliché, and so I wholeheartedly agree that this place soothes the battered spirit.And is, thankfully, short on battered cod.
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| Take me home, country roads.. |
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