In England, one does not walk or hike, one rambles. So Timshel and I will celebrate our safe arrival in England with a ramble around our local area. Would you like to join us?
(apologies to all our friends with dial up connection; it may be a slow ramble as the images take a while to download)

	Our first step? Ensure baby is warm and has adequate (i.e. copious) food supply.
	Where are we? I hear you ask. We are in the north of England, near the ancient city of Durham.
	Where are we going on this bright afternoon? We will ramble down to our closest village, the village of Esh
	where we will check the messages board at the post office,
	admire the back of the Anglican church,
	and peer at the sign in the front of the church.
	Esh is a very small village. There is not much more to look at so we begin the walk home. Just as I am thinking about the nice cups of hot chocolate I will make for us, Timshel suddenly veers off the footpath and starts bounding to the nearest drystone wall. There is a gap in the wall, an ancient stile, and a little sign above that says “Public footpath”. “It’s a bridle path! I’ve read about these. They’re a series of little tracks that anyone can use, despite the fact they pass through private farms and properties. They’re great!” As we lift the baby over the stile and onto the rough track that winds through a field, I enquire “Does this mean we may get stuck somewhere in the middle of nowhere?” “Maybe” says Timshel.
	After a bit of trudging, we stop at the next stile for a break. Timshel tries to warm Reuben’s hands by giving them a brisk rub which Reuben thinks is hilarious. He laughs and holds out his hands for more. Another game invented.
	Oh my goodness! The sun has come out! (a rare event)
	When we resume our rambling, the track is uneven and it is difficult to push the pushchair (buggy, stroller etc).
	So we abandon it.
	In favour of a good ol’ fashioned shoulder-ride.
	After much pointing and squinting at distant hills, we figure out how to get home. We see our house and think “WARMTH!” Then we hit a brick wall. Well, a drystone wall. A drystone wall that Timshel won’t let me climb “It’s a work of art shelley, you can’t just clamber over it”. So more rambling. For the sake of art.
	This is a photo of me carrying our VERY HEAVY baby boy. I am walking AWAY from our house which sits JUST behind a drystone wall.
	Reuben, being a sensitive child, senses his parent’s exhaustion and helpfully suggests that he push the pushchair. He successfully covers 4 metres in 40 minutes. In the wrong direction.
	So with night (and dark clouds) approaching Timshel suggests that he take over. Reuben is less than satisfied with this arrangement.
	We hit rough terrain: this unique road surface is the result of cattle hooves and sub-zero temperatures. The ground has frozen into perfect hoof-holes. “Go Timshel Go!” we chant.
	Up and Over again!
	Weeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhh!! we hit the smooth ground and pick up speed.
	As we reach the last gate of the bridle path Timshel suggests I put the camera down and help him manover the gate. I feel that this would compromise my art however, so I decline the offer gracefully and do my best to capture his (unbridled) aggression on film.
	HOME! I tell the butler to warm my slippers, instruct the cook to warm the kippers, and fire the squire because I’m cranky. I quite like being an English lady.
	Now that we’re safe and warm. Have you noticed that it has started snowing outside?

This entry was posted on Friday, March 3rd, 2006 at 3:18 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.