Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: MEMORY LANE (04/23/20)
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TITLE: Alternate Route Canal | Previous Challenge Entry
By Linda Lawrence
04/29/20 -
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Nevertheless, as she ignores my not-so-subtle hint to let me dream in peace, I block out her repeated detailed reminders of where and how to floss and brush. Determined, I concentrate on the details of memories saved for revisiting during these dreaded appointments.
Exploring London had its highlights as my husband and I embraced our 25th wedding anniversary trip, but it was the Cotswolds, the heart of England, that captured my heart. So I always start my daydreaming at a rise in the road approaching Chipping Norton, remembering the delightful surprise as we came over the ridge and suddenly beheld below—the Vale of Evesham.
It was winter, February, a rather barren time of year. But a square church tower amidst trees whose bare branches reached toward the heavens, hinted of a not-to-be-forgotten spiritual heritage in the scattered villages below. Rays of sunlight broke through the mottled-gray sky onto the ancient-grey stone and the naked trees draped with lichen, turning them to silver—a shining treasured gift from the Creator for our silver anniversary.
The next treasure was our little hide-away in the annex of a 15th-century priory in the village of Offenham, with its ancient maypole. A row of thatch-roofed cottages seen from our bedroom window, an inglenook fireplace, and a dovecote next door satisfied my longings for an authentic English countryside experience. The tantalizing aroma of roasting beef coming from the main part of the house made us salivate—but sadly, meals were not part of the letting arrangement.
The next day we drove into Chipping Campden hoping to find something that tasted as scrumptious as that roast beef smelled. To our great satisfaction we followed our nose into a pub right out of a Dickens novel and filled our stomach and our senses with a rich Pork Normandy, a memory I still savor. (Crowding out that funky acrylic smell and taste of the dental office.)
Chipping Campden was almost dream-like with its cottages and mansions made of local soft-gold-grey quarried stone. Curving alleyways beckoned with their bare-leafed espaliered plantings. It was too early in the year for much color, but hundreds of clumps of daffodils hinted at what was to come.
Bourton-On-The-Water with its child-size canal running through the town, crossed with tiny stone bridges, lived up to its name. I stood, mid-week, in the empty stone church, St. Laurence, and sang Wesleyan hymns, imagining an idealistic piety in a simpler age. In a meditative mood, I meandered out of town.
A gentleman with a walking stick kindly asked if I needed directions. How delightful to be told that if I wanted a quiet walk I would enjoy the path running through a nearby kissing gate. Ah, to be in England with its age-old original ways and byways. What a treat—to be savored at the moment—and then to be remembered in less pleasant days.
I wandered through every graveyard I passed, searching among the daffodils and moss-covered carved tombstones for clues of stories untold.
Stories. Used books were the affordable treasures I purchased to bring home. Gifts for friends and myself. A velvet-covered Jane Eyre. Silas Marner, A Tale of Two Cities, Pickwick Papers. Prayer books, hymnals. All pocket-sized and costing five to seventy-five pence! My husband was just as enthralled as I with dusty second-hand bookstores so we both browsed to our heart’s content. The musty smell of soft leather, the feel of a book in one’s hand, a sense of kinship with the anonymous reader whose marks on the pages raised questions. Musings that feed one’s imagination. . .
My musings were soon to be brought to an end by the chatty hygienist, but I couldn’t help inwardly smiling that I’d managed to keep my eyes closed all the way to the memory of our last meal before leaving the Cotswolds. A candlelight dinner that included the quintessential roast beef and yorkshire pudding—a feast that left us feeling satisfied and blessed.
Maybe I should go to the dentist more often.
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