Goat trouble

Two summers ago, I went camping near Avebury with Perran. He still regales people with my goat experience. 

The footpath went through a field with a large flock of goats. 

'Itll be alright.'

But as we entered the field they pricked up their heads and began to canter towards us in a tight mass.

Not knowing what goats do when they catch up with you, I performed a vertical take off over a gate into the next field where I waded rapidly uphill through waist high thistles until I deemed it safe to get back on the path.

Hahaha.

This year I was to camp again with Perran. Belatedly I realised I had booked in one of the few places in the country where there are wild goats - near Cheddar Gorge. 

'Great!'

Obviously he was hoping to get another story out of this, and I was hoping he didn't. This time I would be brave.

As we walked around Cheddar Gorge, my eyes were peeled for goats. However there was a lot of goat poo but no goats. Until we got almost back to the car, and then finally I saw them, three goats grazing.

'Look,' I said to Perran, 'There are goats and I'm perfectly calm.'

'Yes, Mum, that's so. But they are on the opposite side of the gorge.'

One Funeral and a Road Trip

We went to Wells for my Uncle’s funeral. 

When I first rang to say I would be there, it looked as if it would be a long drive towards sadness.

Then Pascoe agreed to come with me. 

Suddenly it was a road trip that would be companionable instead of lonely.

I had not seen my uncle or his family for a number of years, but wanted to show support.

The funeral was touching and my cousins’ eulogies captured vividly the man I remember.  The excellent final gesture was my Uncle’s coffin being carried out of the church to a spiritual by Elvis – his life-long idol.

At the funeral tea,  I caught up with cousins who for so long had been only "best wishes" in a Christmas card.  Afterwards, Pascoe and I retired to the inn where we were staying.

That evening, we discovered the door of Wells Cathedral still open and we explored the lofty interior where sunset poured in through stained glass.   Wells Cathedral is an epicentre of tourism, but surreally, we were alone in there, drifting about in the airy space between the vast columns.  A once in a lifetime experience.

Next day, we walked Cheddar Gorge together in bright weather.  We saw wild goats and a mass of flowers and birds.  And we caught up with each other’s lives.

It may be that sadly, due to geography, my lovely cousins return to being the senders/recipients of Christmas cards rather than people I am able to see regularly.  But if family was the focus for the trip, then it was a success.  I had time with Pascoe (who currently lives in Edinburgh) to restore the bonds between us.