The R ook, the Rabbit , and the Rover By Pim (1 Oct 2019) Every week day in the early morning Ezinda, Rose, and I load into the VW and drive one mile to Plumpton Station. Ezinda out, train to Victoria. Rose and I continue to the playing fields , we out, morning walk . Rose and I trek the edges of the playing fields , then c ut through a browning barley field, over train track s, around Novington Estate fishing pond and back. Every so often , chase a rabbit. Nice, no problem, dog and human in their own little society , at one with the natural world (stretching idea of nature here but there’s brambles and birds and bees, and you know what I mean ). A few weeks ago we were a walking along our playing field edge, lovely earl y morning sun , dewy grass sparkling , and a tween rabbit hops out o f the hedge , not 20 meters in front of us. Didn’t even look around, no sense of danger. We free ze, then Rosie goes into stalk , slowl
A vexatious title to the First Literary Festival at Stable Cottage is – Sorry Theo – really just too challenging for me. ‘Why I Hate England’ does not inspire words except to contradict, deny and distance myself – all so very negative. Who came here with trepidation or with anger and pent-up rage? Hate is such a strong word – a destructive emotion don’t you think? Make a list of your ‘hates’ and mostly they will be actually gripes, annoyances, irritations, grievances. Frustrating but the English are a race of mutterers and gentle complainers – patiently freezing or baking waiting for delayed trains, sitting in traffic jams, shuffling in queues, baulking at bumbling belligerent bureaucracy, obeying ‘Keep Off the Grass’ and ‘No Ball Games’, ‘Children not Allowed’, ‘Dogs not Allowed’, ‘Keep to the Left’ signs to control our latent barbarism – woad ready and waiting for Boadicea. The instant indignation of the French, the florid fulminations of the Spanish are seen as over-react
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