There is a time in the evening, roughly between seven thirty and eight thirty, when absolute silence falls over the village. The six pm curfew means there are few cars about and the screeching owls haven't yet taken up their positions on the trees along the lane. This hour long window of calm is what village life must have been like a hundred years ago. How strange that the sound of silence should be the hallmark of this pandemic.
This morning Angus is on a Zoom call at first light. 'The Font' observes that the backdrop is of ' a bomb has just hit the house' variety. Today will be a day of 'decluttering'. The men in dark suits are unlikely to have noticed.
Our corner of paradise is known for vacation house boat trips along its rivers and canals. This morning a house boat, the first of the season, is moored on the river bank. It's a modern and rather fancy minimalist affair. The folk on board are cooking bacon. Sophie feels this is carte blanche to wander over and say hello. Angus has to retrieve Sophie from the dockside while apologizing to the woman in the galley. Sophie does not leave 'quietly'.
Sunday morning things :
If we make it to the US this year we will try to eat here :https://www.bluehillfarm.com/