Missing Pamela

This is the story of Pamela Green,
Who's known to me as as the poetry Queen.

From Cambridge she graduated, achieving a first...
in 'weekend socialising', joint with unsated academic thirst.

To the state she became a 'servant', a most unsuitable term,
"Be a sweetie and pass my bag", said she, with not a hint of a squirm.

Pamela was a great collector of numerous things,
Postcards, books, shoes and anything that rings.

Erno's Alexander Flemming building provided wonderful sights,
Of pigeon eggs hatching, though might they also carry mites?

What's the difference between GP fund holding and the IRA?

The IRA are said to have sympathisers.   - Old DHSS joke from yesteryear

To Ilkley Pam travelled, as the department relocates,
To a house full of stairs at Ashburn Place.

'Twas on the day of her arrival, for those who take notice,
That Betty's the tea shop started a home delivery service.

Pamela lived ten years longer than was predicted her fate
But sadly slowed to a halt with that ridiculous gait!

Pamela we miss you-  Andrew Starr

A Walk Through Peatling Magna (nothing to do with pets.)

Aberdeen was the warmest place in the UK today.  It was also summer in South Leicestershire as I set out for a Sunday afternoon stroll.

Path to Peatling Magna church

Peatling Magna deserves a visit if for it's name alone, but there is plenty to see on an early spring day.  The green path to the parish church, unaccessable by car, reveals few travel that way.  I enjoy the discordance across the churches roof line.  If it was the priest who owned the house next door, it was clear who could afford the better roof.   Even his garden seemed to be laughing (it had a haha.)

I'm heading out across the old vicarage garden towards Arnesby on the neighbouring ridge.  The current owners  have recently added a lake to their property, which is not featured on my map, but they have kindly allow the footpath to retain some dry land. The next few fields are full of sheep about to lamb.  A few lambs have already made it and must have been born today.  I cross the stream on an incongruous bridge, and see tiny fish darting away from my shadow.

The farmer has put up signs indicating that the footpath was moved on the 12th of January.  I scan the field for indications of the new direction, but only the old path is visible.  The change seems to me to be of no consequence to the route, and I wonder why he has bothered.  The route now ascends up into the village of Arnesby.

Arnesby Church

At the top of the village is the windmill.  I muse that the property is owned by a racing enthusiast or even a retired racing driver.  There is a racing car wind vane, and lots of smart garages.  One has a large clock, showing the correct time (The clocks went forward today.)  This owner knows about time; clearly a racing driver.

Arnesby Windmill

The route back crosses furrowed fields.  The drainage is badly needed.  The ditches are full of reeds.

Reeds growing in the furrows

Three buzzards wheel over head.  They never come close enough for a picture.  They call to each other, and make wonderful silhouettes against the sky.  The path returns to Peatling.

Back in Peatling Magna, I just have time to do a 'figure of eight', so I continue through the village and head along a track called Mere Road.  It's mud and furrows; perhaps once a contender for a main road, but didn't made the grade and returned to ruts.  Along the verge the violets provide bursts of bright colour.

The path returns to Peatling following the Leicestershire round.  The hedges are blackthorn.  Their tort buds ready to explode into bloom, like pop corn shaking and fizzing in a pan.

Violets

Popcorn

White Violets

Comfrey

Back at my car I leave smartly, leaving my village fantasies behind, and return to my urban life.  I weave through the outer suburbs of Leicester, pleased with my knowledge of the Leicester back streets, returning to tea and cake with Margaret.