Another lovely day at das Boot. And not at it. MasterB went back to bed straight after breakfast. For bed, read under the rug in the fore cabin. I had a couple of things to do at Burwell, filling the car with petrol the most important. So post shower off I went, returning via Reach and picking more blackberries for the crumble that is ready to go in the oven shortly. That’ll be pudding after I have eaten the lentil shepherd’s pie that’s also ready to go in the oven. There’ll be holey spinach as an accompanying vegetable.
I’m getting good at do the washing up in cold water. It’s not that there’s no hot water in the tank, it’s that the taps are sucking in air rather than water when the pump is on, and so they splutter and spit, sometimes sneeze, instead of flow.
Stuart is going to take a look on Saturday after I have left for home. Until then it’s cold water from the five litre containers. I’m glad the weather is still warm.
But this afternoon I had an adventure. I went back by car to the sculpture and then followed the path to Wicken Fen.
I did take some pictures, but I haven’t looked at them yet. All the ones included in this post are from yesterday and Tuesday.
The path led between fields. There were bales, but also horses and, surprise surprise, highland cattle. I watched birds and heard more than I saw. It’s not a walk I’d like to do in hot weather, or in rain. It’s too exposed. But today being warm and dry it was perfect. According to the signposts it was three miles to Wicken Fen, but I reached my goal in an hour, and I had stopped to look at flowers, take pictures, remove my sweatshirt, so I think it was rather less.
I had meant to bring a bag with me in case I chanced on more blackberries, but I forgot. Just as well. This was not a walk resplendent with berries. So I have taken no duplicate photos of the berries I saw yesterday.
And the maize was noticeably absent too.
But the skies were the same, those huge East Anglian skies which seem to start at waist height and stretch over the flat miles, the clouds drifting and hanging high above, as though they are looking down on the whole world.