For visually challenged writers, the image shows a wide, summer landscape, seen from a narrow path near the top of a hill that looks out across a valley.
I once stood on a hill very much like this one, breathing in the hot sunshine as I tried to figure out which way I needed to walk. I didn’t really have a clue as to the direction and since leaving the train station, I seemed to have myself hopelessly lost.
I had an appointment that afternoon in a place called Clandon and that was where I thought the train had brought me. I found out, too late, that I should have stayed on the train for one more stop for where I was now, was East Clandon.
How or why I thought I could walk to the next station rather than wait for over an hour for the next train still puzzles me, even now. Or why I chose the countryside rather than the road to reach my appointment. I remember feeling confident that it would be quicker and that I could do it. I loved to walk, and the day was perfect.
What I didn’t know at the time, was there were a mile of fields to cross, not something I had done since a child.
Somehow, I guessed the direction and set off. It seemed to get hotter as I walked, the air becoming heavier as my breathing deepened. As I walked, I lost track of time as I enjoyed being alone and at one with nature. The everyday world had gone away, replaced by so much green, fields, hedges, and the faint song of a skylark so high above my head.
I managed to keep my appointment, but quite glad I wouldn’t need to walk back to that station…