Flight

Today promised to be glorious, so CleanSteve and I headed up to Minchinhampton Common to get some fresh air. It's a massive area, owned and managed by the National Trust, and all of life was there today.

We parked ourselves near the stone wall of an oddly located reservoir, which kept us out of the wind. Families in front of us were flying kites of all shapes and colours, while other people, some dressed in their best London clothes, marched briskly through the kite flying parties as if they were heading for the Northern Line at rush hour! Yet others walked dogs, and another group began practising golf shots rather near us. Fortunately they weren't any good.

I settled down to sunbathe; finish my book (The Darkening Hour by Penny Hancock) and enjoy an ice cream from the Winstone's van before the sugar queues set in. CleanSteve went off to hunt skylarks. Far away, cars passed, and little girls skipped or ran backwards and forwards in front of our sightline, taking it in turns to sing "la" and giggling when they got out of sync.

On days like this, who could ask for more?
Oh yes, then the paraglider came to join the party. He never did manage to take off. I think it might have been easier to be on a slope, whereas we were 'on the top.'