Somewhere west of Nottingham, in a scout camp, a warm October Thursday. Fe by the fire, Fay in a rocking chair she usefully packed with her. Three dogs and I inside the van, the youngest, Kobo, on her first road trip, as excited as a young child. She enjoys a pigs ear.
Before here (it was a full day): Arthur’s funeral, packed with Suffolk farming men, noticeably uneasy in these formal surroundings and perhaps with a reminder of their own mortality. ‘We plough the field and scatter the good seed on the land’ started well, but the God providing all jarred; resolved by a search and replace God with nature: ‘It is fed and watered by Natures hand’. Gwen wrote the story, their story, read by a woman who lost the last words of each sentence. I caught my judgmental frame of mind.
On to Naomi’s invitation to take part with her own poetry book launch on the occasion of the National Poetry Day at the Halesworth Bookshop. Naomi was launching her first full book of poems, Flying Change and she read from these to our local audience including Michael Laskey and some faces I recognised from our workshops over the years. Fine poems of her Suffolk life, her horse, her father, mother and sisters. I read Volunteering at the Poetry Festival – an event Naomi and Michael championed for over 20 years. A perfect fit as a tribute to Naomi, written over 10 years ago I was shocked to find. I see it is a song of love for Joanna, who I worked with during these days.
Back in Nottingham, Friday morning my workshop was learning how to make shingles. For years Orchard Barn had been calling out for Shingle makers and it surely has a record number of shingles on the barns roof. (HOORAY – we’ve completed the shingle roof on the Long House.) Brilliantly taught by the team who taught MJ to make a rake at Wakelyns. I’d never used a Froe before, and it was a pleasure to work with. Halved then quartered the log, before we cut sections off and split sections. Drip line axed, draw knife for fine tuning. I bought back enough to clad an owl house.
Fe on sweet hazel hurdle
Biochar – headed by Min from Rutland. What’s her story? Names of others: Martin, Roger, Ashly (we are still plotting an NCFed gathering in Iceland), Dylan, Chris from Devon, Brian from Westonbirt.
Beatrix is here – with a friend from way back school days, with whom I had the most memorable conversation about how she rocked up to live in Cornwall. It wasn’t as random as the surface story tells. Her eyes were open, London did not have a hold on her, or an anchor future for her allowing her perspective of looking out, so when her eyes landed on a random house in St Maws, she was open to it’s possibility. I somehow failed to talk with Beatrix – who is here as she’s the new secretary of NCFed!
Lots of dog walking of course. With a woodland near by, which gave an easy place for us to be off lead with our energy intensive dogs, Matty the token collie. We found a stream still with water, which they loved. With some difficulty – very busy roads – I found the entrance to the near by Colliery, now re-wilded (planted pines) and tracks around it for dog walkers and bikes. Listened to DH Lawrance early life one evening in the van, his mining home to the west of Nottingham, Eastwood. Great documentary with Anthony Burgess here Lawrence had a complex relationship with his hometown, eventually an exile in own country.What did Lawrence do to Eastwood? Asked Burgess. He told of its provincial narrowness. He used the people of Eastwood. ‘The father was worth 10 of the son.’ the locals said.
Sherwood Forest
Highlight definitely was a tour of Sherwood Forest with Graham – an ex Sherwood Ranger, and brilliantly informed. Once a royal hunting forest, frequented by English monarchs across the centuries, it supports an extraordinary diversity of species, and a WW2 as well as the Robin Hood story. Culturally, provides a powerful and enduring link between people and nature. We met Stumpy, Frankenstein’s Bride, Morecambe and Wise, finally Medusa, an ancient coppice, still alive. “It’s like being in a tree sweety shop” said one as we marvelled at the [collective noun] Kingdom of veteran oaks.
Finally the dead Major Oak, where Graham pointed out the human interventions: the pillers which were secured down through the roots with concrete. Past interventions included materials like lead and fibreglass to patch and fill in the ‘natural’ holes in the trunk and huge limbs We killed it with kindness, as Graham said. Estimated to be over 1,000 years old, is has had a long and fulfilled life.
I love road trips with Fe, who entertained, kept me awake the journey back as the journey there. We were too late to visit some of the Heritage Trees I had my eye on. Another time, another road trip.
