Contains adult themes and material that some
people may find offensive!
Date: Tuesday 4th August 2020
Quarantine: Day
Location: Wem
Specifically: Bridge Farm, Northfield
You’d think by now I would be bored with the “hey isn’t this great? “I set out walking from a farm in England and ten yards further I’m in Wales. But for some reason I haven’t, there’s some kind of five year old lurking around within me that still gets a stupid buzz out of it.
Of course the roads are no more interesting and no less dangerous than on previous occasions. Having said that the road to Bettisfield would certainly have been more entertaining when Hugh and Julie drove the Man-Kat along it on their return journey. I would not have wished to be a driver coming in the opposite direction and trying to squeeze past. Best option in my view - don’t drive round drive through - as in underneath there’s plenty of room. If you can get past my favourite feature that is - the crash bars! But these are crash bars with a difference. The touch of a lever raises them to above the roof level and smashes the branches of any trees that get in the way! How cool is that eh!?
Many paths are overgrown and inaccessible
Technically there should be some decent walks, there are certainly plenty of paths and official trails. Unfortunately they are used so infrequently that they’ve become overgrown with vegetation and are now barely useable - in fact in many cases they are impassible. I take a chance on one particular trail. The grass on the approach has been trimmed and it appears that some effort has been made to ensure accessibility to walkers and ramblers. A number of caravans are parked in the immediate area along with the cars to tow them. But the effect is eerie - as if I were peering into ghost town.
Like a caravan ghost town.
The vehicles are all sitting in the midst of long grasses, weeds and tall nettles that reach up to my waist. One of the cars is covered in bracken and dead leaves and the caravans look weather beaten and forgotten. It’s almost as if the area had been invaded by an alien species and the owners had chosen to forfeit their vehicles instead of their lives.
My hopes of finding a public pathway are soon dashed; the only way I could progress through the jungle in front of me would be with a machete and a flame thrower. A shame as some way up ahead I can see a glint of sun on the Shropshire Union canal and a short way beyond that a sign indicating a public right of way. No matter. I head back in the direction of Bettisfield and take a road that leads to a hump back bridge overlooking the canal further along. As usual the view is the same as any other canal a couple of abandoned looking barges carrying those cringeworthy sounding names that many boat lovers seem to favour ‘Floating Dick’, Dirty Oar’ ‘Best of Boat Worlds’ and the like. A lady comes into view walking two small black dogs that, from my vantage point, look like rats. The dogs wait until everyone is in my line of sight before deciding to stop for a poop each while the lady does that look of fake nonchalance that belies her feelings “why the fuck couldn’t you both have gone under the tunnel out of sight instead of crapping in front of a bloke staring at us from the bridge? Then in one swift movement she takes out the dog poop bags, scoops up the twin gimbo’s and chucks them in the bin provided. When did we learn this sleight of hand that has made us such experts in picking up dog crap?
I decide this is about as exciting as things are going to get this evening and make my way back along the path. But little do I realise that the best is yet to come. I’m just contemplating walking further afield when for some reason I walk further into a field. At first I cannot believe my eyes. I stand rigid with shock and amazement.
There a few yards ahead of me is the biggest carrot I have ever set eyes on. It appears to be around two feet in height, has green shoots springing from the top. Then a moment of gestalt as my skin prickles with realisation. I quickly turn to leave but in my haste collide with a man who’s got out of his car to see if I’m alright. Desperate to get out of the area my words come out in a torrent. “Please you have to get me out of here! the caravan park across the road was recently invaded by something strange and terrible which terrified the owners so much that they ran away leaving behind their belongings the invaders gave chase and caught one man who they dragged into this field, planted him in the ground and turned him into a giant carrot!” The man then wanted to see for himself but I wasn’t hanging around. I ran. I could hear the man shouting something like “hey what you running for it’s just a terrific bone!” but I wasn’t stopping for anybody!
SHEAR LUCK!
A traffic cone? Did he say traffic cone? Nah. He must think I have an overactive imagination.
After dinner there’s a knock. Sean has a parcel for me from Amazon (they sure have advanced out there from sending messages wrapped around arrows!). I open the package. Hair clippers! I never thought I would see the day I would buy such things but having not been able to get to a hairdressers since lockdown my hair has grown long and is irritating the hell out of me. I put them to one side planning on having a look tomorrow.
In the meantime I’m going to treat myself to a movie! ‘Prodigy’ about a psychologist who is called in to help the scariest child you’ve ever seen - like a little Hannibal Lecter. No spoilers. Just watch it you will not be disappointed. Watch out for the name of the actress Savannah Liles who gives an incredible performance.
Incredible movie or not I find myself taking a look at the hair clippers even though there is only the light from my computer screen. Looks simple enough - sturdy looking clippers, four ‘combs’ an extra battery, plug and a brush to clean of excess hair from the clippers. I try the on switch - it’s not plugged in or charged up anyway. Turns out it comes ready charged and a red light comes on accompanied by the familiar vibrating sound associated with hair clippers, sheep shears and er.....other more intimate items.
I take the clippers to my head and begin shaving. I don’t care what I look like I just want rid of this mass of hair that is driving me crazy. When I’ve finished I’m expecting to be as bald as a billiard ball but surprisingly that doesn’t happen. Instead I have a decent haircut!
If it had been done at a hairdressers I would have been delighted and made a mental note to return. Stupidly I feel a sense of relief! Does that sound dumb? I hate the hairdressers with a passion - from the waiting around to being asked “do you want to sit across?” (Across who!?) “what setting do yer ‘ave it on luv?” To seeing your reflection and confronting how disgracefully you’ve aged to the gormless conveyor belt interrogation that passes for interest “you got any holidays booked?”, “you
Click for further info
working today” “have you made plans for the weekend?”. From now on I plan to whittle my own bonce.
Ooh the movie has a very surprising ending!!!I can actually understand it!
Comments