On our way to Buscot the other day, we went looking for The Best Place To See The Uffington Horse. We found a couple of likely contenders.
..a Hercules flew by as we gazed admiringly at the ridge across the wheat stubble. I recalled my ATC annual camp at RAF Brize Norton, back in the 70s, and tried to remember the names of the big aircraft they had there then. It's getting harder.... hmm, Argosy; Belfast; Andover; great big things, long gone now ... we did a march on the North Downs (military people apparently don't ramble, saunter or bimble; they march. Which is like rambling but in serge). It was my first visit to this area; I'd got a vague notion of the South of England being a vast amorphous suburban sprawl, and it was a pleasant surprise to see the wide open spaces of Oxfordshire. We sat in the sun, gratefully eating our RAF packed lunches, and a middle-aged couple who were Serious Ramblers (you can tell by the sticks and hats and stuff) paused so that the woman could aim her nose at us and say "Ay HOPE you're going to take your litter haym with yew".
Ah, different times.
We stopped at the foot of the Down and picked up a pile of crab apples, as I first did at the same place two years ago. Most of the crabs were out of reach, but there were loads of windfalls. "Shall we just pile them in and share them out at home?" I asked. "It's OK, you take them," said Deb. "I'd like a jar of jelly though, if you can spare it."
I thought I might be able to manage that.
Nice things to do on an equinoctal day: boil up crab apple jelly with cloves, mace and ginger, while listening to Hatfield and the North. Some things don't change very much... Share It!