The Ramble Resumed.

Recent weather conditions made the lanes around here very slippery for the past couple of nights and therefore not well suited to nocturnal perambulation, so I had a break. Tonight it was mild, damp and very windy and I resumed the habit.

The move toward resembling the Golden Mile gained ground in my absence. Three new sets of exterior lights had appeared while I was looking the other way. One was at The Walsage in Mill Lane where the occupants, somewhat indignant I imagine at the superior blue cascade on show at Rose Mount just a little further along the road, had rearranged their relatively meagre show of pulsating orange lights and augmented them with a mass of flashing blue, green and red ones. The politics of prestige reach all levels, it seems. And, of course, I might be completely misjudging the motive.

But do you know what I thought looked best of all? From that point on Mill Lane, my house can be seen on the rising ground about half a mile away across the fields. And my living room window, with its display of multicoloured fairy lights, glowed beautifully amid the darkness of the surrounding landscape. And they didn’t even cost me anything. They were my mother’s. Thank you, mum.

Something else I find interesting is the differing quality of noise the wind makes in tree branches. It wasn’t hissing or whistling tonight – more moaning, with the occasional ascent to a reticent roar.

And finally, I should like it to be known that I no longer indulge in even a passing glance through the windows of M’Lady S’s cottage. There are two reasons for this. One is that somebody recently said to me ‘You sound like a right bloody stalker on your blog.’ Perish the thought! The other shall remain my secret.