One of the most amazing treats on my sabbatical so far was a week when our cottage was empty so I headed up to Northumberland on Benji (My BMW R1100 RT) for a week of reading, talking to God, reflecting with the odd bit of gratuitous hedonism thrown in. This is a fantastic time of year in our village - our neighbour looks after our garden so well, and this is the trellis on the patio with whatever it is in full flower.
I don't really do gardening, so don't know the names of many flowers, but I guess someone will put me right.
I love this old toilet that looks fantastic with flowers growing out of it..
I say I don't do gardening, but I do like seeing the garden looking so nice. I sometimes wonder whether gardening has no appeal because until recently we have never had our own house so I haven't had much of an incentive. The plan is that one day we will live here all the time (Yippeeeeee) and then I might have some motivation to look after the garden.
This (in case you don't know) is St. Cuthbert's island, about a 6-iron from the shore of Lindisfarne, with the church of St. Mary and the old priory in the background. St. Cuthbert, who was in charge of all the monks, used to come here to pray to get away from them - especially when they were quarrelsome. I took this picture to imagine the view he would have had from his little chapel back to Lindisfarne. Not that the church or the priory would have been there in those days - they are much more recent. This is also my favourite spot to be in the whole of the UK - with the possible exception of Villa Park when my team are doing well (rather rare these days.)
It was such a glorious week for weather that even the views that are normally just really nice were beautiful. This is the view looking out towards the sea from the old bridge over the Tweed going into Berwick. It was so tranquil I could have just stayed there for hours drinking it in.
Then the other side of the coin - in more senses than one, and a sign of the times. One of these has taken root in Berwick and it makes me sad and cross. I hate the idea of people running these places making money from people who are so desperate they will sell their jewellery and other valuables. I know they're just providing a service that some folk want, but it still makes me angry. Hoping it closes down and reopens as a Ramsden's fish & chip shop.
End of sermon and back to the village - another ordinary view of the place we call home made to look extraordinary by the Spring feel and the warm sunshine
Reports had reached us that "Woolly Bulls" (Highland Cattle or Muckle Coos) had come to our village so I went to investigate. Mrs. L. has a real fixation with these cute beasts, and I wind her up by saying it's not a real Woolly Bull if you don't see it in Scotland. I make an exception in the case of the village as it's only a few miles from the border.
And whilst the adults are of course gorgeous the baby was irresistible. I mean - how could you even contemplate eating one of these?
Mom made sure she was close enough to look after junior just in case I decided to try anything
This beauty knew she was cute and was clearly used to posing for the camera
My favourite walk from our cottage, and the bench where I pause before the final walk down the track to go home. Perhaps one day when I am only a fond memory in the minds of those who have loved me they will put a little brass plaque on a bench on this site in my honour.
