Today, we went for a long walk through West Dean Woods to Cocking Down (no jokes please), seeking vistas of bluebells. We found some, but not the great swathes that we had hoped for, although we were rewarded by plenty of patches of bluebells, drifts of wood anemones, a glade with masses of milkmaids and lots of primroses, cowslips and violas and bugle. We did enjoy fabulous views across the Weald, and also over Selsey Bill, the Solent and the Isle of Wight. We also passed a number of Andy Goldsworthy‘s chalk balls, which are slowly and surely mellowing and dissolving into the landscape. All of this was followed by tea and cake in the visitor centre at West Dean.
This evening, a trip to the cinema to see Under The Tuscan Sun (mostly romantic slush clearly aimed at an American audience that has never travelled to Europe, but harmless enough and quite entertaining) has been followed by fajitas and flopping on the sofa.
If married life is like this, then bring it on.

7 Replies to “Bluebells”

  1. He said ‘Cocking Down’!

    Oh, but no jokes.




    OK then, Cocking Down is simply not funny, then. Except it is. Go on, we’re all sniggering.

  2. Did you hear the one about the two lions walking down Oxford Street? One turns to the other and says: “Quiet, isn’t it.”


    Ohh crap – NO jokes.. right, sorry, as you were…

  3. Enough with the jokes already!

    Robyn – how about a bloggers’ blackberrying day? Hmmm – no, maybe that would be a bad idea. Everyone would be carrying laptops and trying to record their experiences, with fingers covered in juice from the berries and blood from the scratches.

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