|West Overton, drowsing in Spring sunshine|
In spite of all my deadlines, I managed to justify a weekend away in Wiltshire – and how glad I am that I did! The weather was so perfect, it was almost surreal. I don’t know if it’s something to do with getting older, but every year now I think it’s the most beautiful Spring I’ve ever seen. It’s as if the grass have never been so green, the sky so blue, the blossom so fresh, the lambs so new and wobbly on their feet …
|The neck of the White Horse, carved in the 19th century|
And at least I could enjoy it, instead of sitting resentfully at my computer, staring out of the window. We walked along the Ridgeway, allegedly the oldest path in Europe, from near Avebury to the white horse carved into the chalk at Hackpen Hill, and then back again through the strange litter of stones left by the retreating glaciers at the end of the Ice Age. Wiltshire has such ancient history, it makes York seem positively nouveau!
My theory (and I’m sticking to it … at least until I start to panic again) is that I will write better for being refreshed by a lovely weekend away. I finished the draft of Clara’s story before I left, so this blog is my last task before I turn over the pile of pages and reread from the beginning – always the moment of truth! I predict a hollow realisation of how much still needs to be done, followed by a lifting of the heart once I actually start rewriting ... at least, that's what I'm hoping!