Greenbelt

Notable

Spied on the notice-board of the church where Emma and I will marry in September: an advertisement for Greenbelt, carefully clipped from the Church Times.

Emma seemed even more surprised than me at its presence. But I warmed just a little more inside. The festival is making its way back into the hearts of the churches, and that can only be a good thing.

Personal

Falling in debt again

Big news: we've just bought a house.

That's not true. What we've done is verbally agree the price at which we might buy a house. Those who've been through the English process will know this means we now get to spend about £1,000 and wait five or six weeks while others advise us whether or not to proceed, with the ever-present fear of being gazumped because we offered too little.

But it's a good step. We may yet move in before the wedding.

Walks

Bringing the harvest home

One of the shortest of the Suffolk Walks catches a glimpse of one of the longest just a hundred metres away. In the spirit of efficiency I connected them into a fourteen-mile figure of eight.

Distance: 9.0 miles
Ascent: 88 metres
Duration: 2 hours 41 minutes

Walk 22: Stowlangtoft and Norton from Pakenham

Today's been a study in harvesting. In the village of Norton the corn was golden and ripe. Approaching Ixworth, hay had been cut and left in long strips. Further on in Stowlangtoft those strips were being bundled and turned into bales.

Twice I caught the most remarkable sight, but each time failed to capture it on film. Once in the distance, and once right alongside me while I was driving, the hay was caught up into a twenty-foot high spiralling eddy, a column of gold dancing in the sunlight. Then after a minute or two it collapsed to the ground, exhausted in the heat.

Distance: 5.3 miles
Ascent: 55 metres
Duration: 1 hour 28 minutes

Walk 2: Pakenham Mills from Ixworth

The mills in Ixworth - one water, one wind - look fine from the outside but were closed for visitors. I slowed as I passed, enjoying the shade before heading back into the furnace of the mid-day sun.

Personal

Ice-cream cone

In Maidenhead, even the street furniture is wilting in the heat.

Me? I've been on the house-hunting trail, but will soon be joining this cone. You don't mind if I slump here do you?

Angels

Islington

Driving back from London on Sunday I passed through the invisible Angel everyone in town knows.

(I rarely get to do it, but I love driving through London - especially with the roof down. More than any other this feels like my home town.)

Personal

Five words

I didn't blog at all last week. Time to catch up, with five words - one for each day.

• Monday: enthused. (Evening spent chatting with people looking forward to Greenbelt.)
• Tuesday: bling. (I'm now the proud owner of two wedding rings.)
• Wednesday: lonely. (Missing out on a birthday.)
• Thursday: tired. (Thank goodness for four-day weeks.)
• Friday: guilty. (Should really blog.)

Coastwalk

Freiston Shore → Wrangle

Distance: 5.82 miles
Ascent: 83 metres
Duration: 1 hour 45 minutes

Take no chances
« Boston | Wainfleet All Saints »

I left my car at Boston railway station and after two minutes' silence I took a taxi to the start of the walk. The ride was short and I was pleased to not be treated to the xenophobic ranting I've had from previous Lincolnshire drivers. This is a strange place to be today.

On the coast I waved to the man in the '52-reg Astra and twenty paces beyond his car I hear the doors unlock.

"Where you going?" he asked. Then - softening - he explained, "I locked the doors, see. You never can be too careful about these parts. Like you with those cows."

(In the field before the car park I'd taken a wide berth around a herd of cows that were standing on the path.)

"You never can be too careful," he repeated.

In his right hand he held a heavy pair of binoculars. I presume they were there when he was in the car though he could have brought them for extra protection. ("You never can be too careful," he might have said as he swung them in defense.)

My friend looked back towards The Wash. "There's something out there. Wasn't there on Friday. Appeared on Monday," he told me. "Don't know what it is." He's taking no chances.

And as he talked a pair of military aircraft flew past and dropped bombs on the Wainfleet range a mile or so to the north. Someone else taking no chances.

Arts

Won over by the ad-men

Assuming you don't live in an advertising-free bubble you'll have seen the "bouncing balls" advert. You know, the one shot in San Francisco with 250,000 brightly coloured balls. (If not, watch it now. It's almost perfect. Let down only by the way the product is totally eclipsed by the beauty of the film.)

But: have you seen the remake? Use north Swansea instead of San Francisco and swap the balls for trolly-loads of fruit. Other than that, execute a shot-for-shot remake using the same iconic music and wrap it all up in a spoof website.

Genius.

Angels

Angel Trains

It turns out there's an Angel in this snapshot, taken on the way back from Iona last month.

(It's the train. Yes, this series of photos is getting a little desperate.)

Personal

Three pictures

Tree stumps on the beach at Beanacre Broad. Black flint decorations on the derelict church at Covehithe. The name of a beach hut at Southwold.

It's a steaming hot day, England are fighting to stay in the World Cup most of the country is indoors.

Much more relaxing: a few hours on the beach looking out for details.