I park my bicycle in the shade, and climb up to my preferred location, the bridge wall.
I sit and wait, and look, and
listen.
The gates are closed and locked
as usual, and the grass has grown higher since the last time that I sat here.
Below where I sit, the old
bridge serves to cover the small stream of water that flows from the nearby
fields.
The morning sun has heated the
huge stone parapet upon which I am sitting, and is now warming my nether regions
as I settle to my hobby.
A skylark rises almost from
nowhere, and hovers in the clear blue sky, singing its heart out.
In the field, a rabbit comes to
my attention and after a few moments others bob into view, ears held high.
A flash of blue turns out to be a dragonfly, closely resembling a small helicopter as it lands on the top of the nearest gate.
I have recently seen butterflies at this location, red brown, yellow and blue. All these I’m sure are quite common, but interesting just the same.
The peace is disturbed by a
local farmer with his noisy tractor, as it converts a green field into a dusty
brown carpet. A flock of plovers are his enthusiastic audience.
There is a warm breeze blowing
through the trees and hedges, and it always reminds me of the sounds of the
sea.
A sudden plop in the water
below invites investigation. It turns out to be a water vole, going about its
daily chores.
Some days very little happens,
but one afternoon I saw a pair of hares doing their boxing thing, just a few
yards into the field.
Two bicycles have arrived, with
their respective owners.
The normal greetings are
exchanged.
Ay up! (Times three)
‘What’s been through?’
‘Only a couple of relics,’ I
reply.
The three of us sit, swap news
and look and listen.
Metallic noises and the smell of
hot tar are things that we take for granted as we sit in the happy world of
unspoken friendship.
The sun is getting lower, and I
feel that tea time is drawing near.
‘I’m off home’.
‘See you’, chorus the chaps.
‘What have you been doing, and
why are you so filthy?' my patient mother is asking.
‘Train Spotting’ I say
truthfully.
David Taylor
