The green of summer has given way to autumn’s golds, reds and russets, which in turn have succumbed to an almost universal brownness, bar the beautiful beeches that brave the brisk blackness, still offering a kaleidoscope of green and tints of yellow. Elsewhere, what few leaves remain are clearly completely dead, like Monty Python’s parrot, devoid of any life, merely awaiting the next healthy gust to sever the umbilical cord and detach them from their summer home, fluttering down to join the billions forming a crunchy carpet, turning paths into mulchways and drains into flood plains. Such aesthetic thoughts fail to trouble Callie (the whippet) as she roams the undergrowth in search of fleeing squirrels, tediously grey in appearance throughout the seasons, and generally just too fast for the slavering gnashers of the pursuing hound. The bushy-tailed rodent has one huge advantage of course. Surrounded by magnificent beeches it can go vertical at any moment like a Typhoon Eurofighter punching up through the clouds at Mach 2. Callie comes to a screaming halt at the tree’s base, before demonstrating a very impressive six foot sergeant jump as she mimics a Harrier jump jet, while the amused vermin can almost be heard laughing aloud from it’s aerial perch, thirty feet up. It ill behoves it to be too smug though. Callie has been known to return with bloody chops after the occasional successful chase.
Butchershole is a popular local haunt for dog-walkers with its many hectares of glorious beech woods, encasing acres and acres of open pastures, that once provided ideal gallops for the sadly defunct racing stables, but now serve as a marvellous playground for man’s four-legged friends of all descriptions. Callie relentlessly seeks out willing playmates in the hope that one day she’ll find a match for her speed and agility. It hasn’t happened yet, although a pair of pure-bred whippets left her pleasantly exhausted. She has Formula 1 acceleration, an incredible turning circle at high speed and an impressive side-step. If only she could catch a rugby ball too she’d definitely be playing for England.
Talking of athletes, daughter Tiggy has been selected to join the Eastbourne Netball Club U13 Performance squad, following Sunday’s trials, with her coaches saying “she performed very, very well and shows huge promise”. Needless to say, she still thinks she’s useless and devoid of skill. Definitely her Mother’s daughter, I rarely suffered from such doubts, although undoubtedly should have done! After a mental hiccup on the hockey field she’s also been selected to rejoin the School 1st team as they head to Repton School in Derbyshire (a long way north of Watford Gap and passports therefore required) at the end of the week for the Prep Schools National Finals. The competition takes place all day on Friday, finishing at 4.45. The return journey from Burton involves a long stretch on the M1, a full semi-circle of the M25, then the 50mph M23 (being made into a “smart” motorway!) and finally the tedious A27 from Brighton to Eastbourne……..on a Friday evening…….. Google maps predicts a journey time of 3 hours and 56 minutes…..at midday on Tuesday. Ha!
It’s a tough decision whether or not to go…….?!
ADayInTheStrifeOf 