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Inconspicuous In the morning we said good-bye to Joan and David and thanked them for their genial hospitality. They left for work leaving us to prepare our breakfast of fresh eggs. We had meaty slices of bacon called "rashers." Toast was spread with homemade gooseberry jam.After doing the dishes and having a shower I relaxed and read their cycling magazines. Sharon played the piano. The phone rang, but we didn't answer it. It finally stopped, then began again. Maybe it was Joan or David calling to tell us something. I answered it. It was the stove repairman. Joan and David had recently purchased a new "cooker" and were having problems with the oven. The repairman wanted to know if he could come over. Joan had mentioned the repairman was scheduled for the next day. We told him to come over. He made an adjustment and said that should do the trick. He didn't bake a test pie to see if it worked or not though. We left a note for Joan and David saying he had been there. Reloading our bikes we rode to the end of the driveway and discovered Sharon's rear tire was flat. Off came the bags once again. We put in a new tube and a Mr. Tuffy tire liner. As Joan had promised Barrington Hill led out of Haslingfield. It was short and not too steep, but it was our first real incline in a long while. I felt out of shape as I laboured to the top hindered by a bag of cycling magazines Joan and David had given us. Poppy lined country roads livened the landscape. Poppies grew so abundantly they were considered weeds. I thought they looked beautiful swaying with their bright red heads. At a self-serve roadside vegetable stand (with a container to put money in) we stopped to stock up on fresh salad materials and new potatoes. The owner pulled up in her van to replenish the stall. As she spoke to us her neighbour came over to chat too. "Where do you camp?" she asked. "In the forest," Sharon said. "We're very inconspicuous," I added. Her eyes widened as she surveyed our neon panniers and bulky load. "I see you're succeeding very well." The doughnut shop in Ashwell was superb. A woman sent us to the hairdresser down the street because the hairdresser's son lived in Prince George and "she would love to meet you." The hairdresser was perming an old woman's hair. As the conversation flowed the old woman became perturbed. She chastised her hairdresser for not paying careful attention to her hair. We thought it was time we made our departure before we got the hairdresser into too much trouble. "Come back later if you want a haircut," she offered. Sharon and I went to the cricket field to eat and watch a man cut the grass on the pitch as short as a golf green. Then, to my amazement, he swept the grass with a push broom. I hadn't realized cricket required such extensive preparation. At a church we looked at famous graffiti dating back to the time of the Plague. Wandering along scenic country lanes with rolling meadows, we guessed at intersections as to which way to go. At a four way intersection we pondered longer than usual. It was almost seven and there was a forest on one corner. We waited for traffic to clear and then hastily pushed through a tiny clearing in the hedge and up a steep bank with brambles grabbing at my helmet cover. Through the hedge we entered a level area. A Private Keep Out sign greeted us. We pretended not to see it and pushed our bikes in the opposite direction. |
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