Day 26 Part 2 - High hedgerows

[continued from part one]

Between the thatched houses and Dorset oaks, meadows of buttercups, cow parsley and long grasses were churned by a blustery wind. The breeze flung cloud shadows up the lane and everything was in motion.

I spotted mayflies dancing in the air beneath the trees near the river. But no sign, at least to my eyes, of the dreaded Blandford Fly. This small black fly has a nasty, sometimes even fatal, bite. For the last twenty years the authorities have sprayed pesticide to reduce the numbers and cases have dropped dramatically as a result.

In Shapwick, I found a sign on the village green, which was recently dedicated in the name of Charles Bennett. He was born in the village and became Britain's first olympic gold medallist in a track and field event. He won the 1500 metres race in Paris in 1900 in a record time of four minutes, six seconds.

Bennett would have raced up the same lane that I was walking, perhaps up to Tarrant Crawford and back. Or up the hill to the ancient Badbury Rings.

Sticking to my even pace, I walked on past large estates and fields of cattle, wondering again who's England I am walking in.

Blandford has a good feel to it. The centre was completely destroyed by fire in the 1730's and rebuilt by the Bastard family in a consistent Georgian style. I found a blue plaque on the wall of the King's Arms where I'm staying. It recorded that the pub is built on the site of the tallow works where the fire started.

In the fish and chip shop I met Dale and James, two young soldiers training at the nearby army camp. They're in the signals regiment and we talked as we waited for our chips to be fried.

I joined them on a bench outside the church. We talked about the town, their posting to Stafford next week, and my walk. Their army world is so all-involving and though they've been in Blandford for a year, it still feels to them as though they're just passing through the town. I thought more about my 'church bubble' and about the rare chances of our worlds meeting.

"What about the chaplains?", I asked. "Do you see much of them?"

Ryan said that they did as part of the "character-formation" in their training. "The padre asks us what we think about things."

James added, "They're always smiling! When you see the padre, he's always smiling."

In The Dolphin, I recognised Laurie the landlord's accent. He told me he's from Wolverhampton, and we connected places in our pasts.

I normally sit at a table, but talked with Kieran and the regulars at the bar. It was a good way to find out more about the town. Kieran's keen to leave, having lived here all his life. But I heard from others that Dorset is England's most beautiful county, that there's nowhere better.

During the day I'd sat on a style for lunch and to listen to the news. The MPs expenses row has damaged the reputation of parliament and it's been sad to hear of the low esteem in which the public generally hold the whole political system.

Without a real clash of ideologies, the debates between mainstream parties aren't engaging people and it seems that there's a real risk of a crisis in our democracy. The real worry is that extremist parties pick up the votes of the disillusioned.

My walking verse for the day was Isaiah 30.21, "When you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'"

Neither left nor right, but the Lord's way. Sounds like good politics to me.