Creeky

I've been feeling a bit creeky the last couple of days. No, I haven't suddenly forgotten how to spell...I mean I fancied seeing some of those places where fingers of tidal river creep into the countryside. I've been feeling creaky too, as in aching and stiff and tired, but if you've experienced remission, either your own or a loved one's, you'll know there's always a whisper in the back of your mind suggesting you shouldn't put off today what you may not have a tomorrow to enjoy. Mine's got a friend that murmurs 'dialysis' occasionally too...and this time of year they're joined by a summer timetable warning voice as well, as there are some places that soon will become inaccessible again as the autumn schedules start...

So I give thanks for my railcard and bus pass, for being quite canny where timetables are concerned and valiant in the face of exhaustion. I'm grateful for the many moving sights encountered as my seats moved across the land, including lots of calves and crias (yup, I learned a new word too!) and teams of little tractors cutting bracken on perilously steep hillsides. For the willow pattern teapot, cup saucer and plate on a table outside one of those ancient homesteads that nestle in a fold of land with a sharp corner of road winding round it. For the thresher making stripes of golden grain in a loop of silver water. 

I give thanks for the laughter of the passengers as the lush greenery on the narrow lanes fell on our laps through open windows as the double decker squeezed through. For stopping in a friendly town where several ladies of a certain age sported tangling curls in various shades of ginger - natural and otherwise (felt right at home there, wonder why!), and spending a train change wait time chatting to smartly dressed Londoners on their way back from a funeral. When they asked if I ever went up to town how much I enjoyed being able to say I was at Wimbledon on men's final day and briefly reverse the balance of social envy!