Chapter 185
Greetings and celebratory salutations in this exciting new year!
I write from England. I spent a fortnight here with my dear friend Bonny. A stone’s throw from Heathrow, within the pollution dome of the M25. I took an exploratory walk through the cemetery (closest green space), stood counting aircraft…14 aloft; coming into land, escalating skywards, circling or streaming away. Air oily on my tongue. I walked the narrow streets, squeezed by cars relentlessly parked both sides, offering a single width to pass at times, red brick houses lined the roads, standing seamlessly shoulder to shoulder.
Subsequently, extricating Bonny from the security of her home to go ‘adventuring’, we explored a small wild spot with lake, bordered by rushing road on one side and a rattling train-track on the other. It was a hard walk for Bonny to circumnavigate the lake, but she allowed herself to be cajoled into it.
Next, off to Windsor Great Park. We emerged from home slightly earlier in the day, getting some of the dwindling hours of sunshine to marvel at the giant oaks, beeches and plane trees of the Park. Three red deer grazed, or to be accurate, two grazed and one stood sentinel within feet of the walking path, only moving when three equestrians passed close by on partly woolly winter-clipped horses. The castle made a magnificent sight far across the acres of the park. Despite the negatives, without the longevity of the royals here, so much of the beauty of this land would long ago have succumbed to concrete and tarmac. This park is a gem that thousands of people like us enjoy on a daily basis, it’s an oasis of calm greenery that does the soul good.
We moved onward in search of a Sunday pub lunch at the Royal Windsor, in the lee of the castle itself. On the way, I spy a quintessentially English gentleman walking along in tweed plus fours, a flat cap and sporting a pipe. Hilarious.
Another day we ventured to the site of the signing of the Magna Carta, the foundation of British Law and for law in many other countries including Canada. This set down the limitations of rule, the essence of democratic rule in 1215 with King John and a bunch of other luminaries of the time. A vast green plane of grass on which I could envision great pagentry, horses and humans gathered, pavilions, flags and standards flying.
There were a number of art pieces here, not least a beautiful three-part construction in twisted willow branches. Three women releasing what I would think to be doves into the air. The skirts of the woman formed tipi-like structures that wrapped around an opening. Inside, one suddenly dropped into a state of warm, supported peace, the stillness with sparks of light, sunshine blinking between the twists of wood illuminate the inside. Wood plaques display short poems written by juvenile offenders, members of the Runnymede Residency, a policeman and a judge.
A monument to JFK three quarters of the way up the hill, a good climb up two sets of steps made of grey-black stone setts. A major challenge for Bonny, but we managed to make it all the way to the top where she rested while I skipped up the hill to the peak before heading back down together, aiming for the rather cosy cafe where hot chocolate and good munchies were consumed before our departure. This place rather blew our minds, neither of us knew it existed, it is on the edge of Bonny’s life-long tramping grounds, something new and exciting.
Today, if I can get the woman moving in sufficient time to enjoy the glorious sunshine we are gifted, we will visit Osterly Park to explore the house, gardens and ornamental lake. More beauty on the edge of the piles and piles of grim, grimy, congested and polluted urbanity that is the sprawling edges of the Greater London conurbation.
Preserve the integrity of the mountains and the foothills! Campaign against those who want to chop things down and dig things up. Once gone, it’s gone for ever. It is worth having clean water into the future, it’s worth having clean air to breathe. Millions of people choose to live in this great suburban/urban sprawl, but they forget what it is to be and how and where their stuff all comes from.
Nature preserves us. We should return the favour.
Kat Dancer
bodymudra@gmail.com,
+1 415 525 2630 (ph/whatsapp)
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