A Bed With A View


It’s the coldest night for a long time and Andy is somewhere in these woods, laying in his bivvy bag. If it’s not raining (it is here, and we’re only about sixty miles away), he can open the hood and look at the stars. I even found him a little mosquito net bag he can stick over his head, in case the midges attack.

It’s nine o’clock and he’s been asleep for at least an hour. He sent me the picture around 7 o’clock. He will have boiled his rice pack and snuggled down with a few custard creams. He doesn’t have a book to read and he shuts off his phone.  He just walks and eats and then sleeps. If he’s not sleepy, he hasn’t walked far enough, he says.

He walked far enough today. He did the whole third section of the trail, from Streatley to Wantage. He’s on the Ridgeway proper, now, the Neolithic pathway that was so important that walking it became a religious act. Great monuments were carved and heaped out of the earth along it. Kings and heroes were given barrow burials along it.

I’m warm in bed and reading a good book. And it is a bit cold and rather rainy outside. But I’m a little jealous of Andy’s bed with a view…

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