We leave the village, walk downhill, past a bench surrounded by
primroses and daffodils. Over a stile and into fields where chocolate-coloured
cows graze peacefully, their calves alongside or lying sleepy in the sun.
Our route is clear ahead, and in the near distance a raised
railway track follows the valley floor from east to west.
We hear the rumble and thunder of an approaching train – it’s
bright livery flashes through gaps in the sparsely leaved trees. Almost as soon
as it’s there it’s gone.
Before we reach the railway line three more passenger trains and
a goods train charge by, shattering the peace, but briefly.
On other walks the insistent roar of traffic on our motorways
cuts off conversation, renders impossible any awareness of the sounds of nature
and hammers our ears as we approach, cross by bridge or tunnel, and finally
experience the relief of leaving it behind us.
How many trucks and cars would it take to replace those trains?
Harry and I decided to keep up the tradition of an Easter Day picnic and egg-rolling. This has been a moveable feast - from the inclined plane at Foxton Locks in the days before they renovated and info-boarded the place to the field road from Hallaton to Goadby with detours via Bolton Bench near Lymington and the car park for Hallaton bottle-kicking. This year was on the snowy and cold field road again.