We woke with half an intention of partying with the village this evening. Then we eyed off the size and proximity of the pyre and wondered whether were we to remain where we were, would we end up inadvertently impersonating Joan of Arc albeit borne on a polyester boat rather than a trusty steed.
We elected to run, to find a place where we can’t be late for anything, where deer run free and butterflies abound and where the risk of conflagration was pretty much zero. Moored in the cool of a little patch of dense forest just a few kilometres from Dieue, bounded by wheatfields and grasslands we spent a delightful few hours roaming in the afternoon.
Whilst wading knee deep in grasslands and poppies each of us with a different agenda, one could not help but reflect on words recently read, attributed to D.H.Lawrence:-
“Women pick flowers”… he is reputed to have said, “while men let them be.”
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