Somerset

A lovely rural setting

Somerset is pretty!

Geoffrey's home is in a small village in Somerset called Middlezoy. It is surrounded by farmlands  and bounded on one side by the Quantocks. On the other side of the mountains you can see all the way to the Bristol Channel and can even glimpse the towers of the nuclear power reactors at Hinckley Point. We saw this yesterday on our way from Hestercombe to Bridgewater.

Nuclear reactors at Hinckley Point near  the Bristol Channel

The day Susan and I drove down from Essex we passed the town of Glastonbury (where the music festival is held) and could spy the tower on Glastonbury Tor from the car as we sped by.

Glastonbury Tor

We then drove through a town called Street. Street was once the site of the Clarks shoe factory, a major employer for the town. When the factory closed this site was turned into a large outdoor mall full of factory outlets (think DFO near the airport in Brisbane) We returned here today to do some shopping.

Clarks village at Street

It was fairly quiet in the Clarks Village when we got there, being a weekday afternoon. Generally it is heaving with shoppers, some being bused in from as far away as Wales. We wandered around various menswear stores looking for new trousers and shorts for Geoffrey; he was pleased to find something to his liking. Susan and I fell into a couple of ladieswear stores too and found some nice stuff for Susan. The Clarkes shoe store remains as a focal presence in the Village and Geoffrey found some comfortable shoes to add to his shopping booty.

Early this morning Geoffrey and I had taken Daisy and Bella for their morning walk. We had driven the car and parked at the back of the Middlezoy church to access the field on the hill behind the village. To get to this field we first had to walk through a field where the farmer's wife was loading bales of hay into the back tray of a truck. She was doing this singlehandedly, hurling large heavy bundles strenuously and with practiced ease. They build farmer's wives tough in Somerset. To get to the third field where the dogs could be allowed to go off-leash we had to first walk them carefully past the second field full of black-faced sheep. This field has an electrified fence around it and the dogs have to be kept well away. Yesterday Bella had accidentally brushed the live wires through a hedge and yelped in pain and surprise. Daisy has had previous encounters which have left her with a fear of the painful wires. We finally gained the freedom of the third field through a gate ominously etched with a sign to beware of badger holes.

Daisy running into the first field of hat bales

the dogs find friends to play with

Bridgewater in the distance

carefully walking past the electrified fence

yep there were holes

I soon found out what a badger hole was when I almost fell in one. It would be easy to turn an ankle or even break a leg if you weren't careful walking here. The dogs ran about happily meeting up with some of their doggy pals for a game of chasey. They all lolloped about joyfully. What a treat!

The views from the hill were wonderful too and it was another sunny morning with clear blue skies so you could see for miles. It was hard to convince the dogs to leave this doggie paradise, but they are very well trained dogs and came to Geoffrey's call, if a little reluctantly.

Driving around this area requires patience and care as the roads can be very narrow and possibly blocked by cows being herded down the road or by slow moving tractors or ploughs or even horse-drawn buggies. Sometimes you find yourself driving down a tunnel of trees or on a single track with high hedges on either side. If you see another car approaching you both have to get as far over as you can and squeeze carefully past hoping the car isn't scratched by brambles on the roadside. Drivers are generally well behaved and polite. I haven't witnessed road rage yet, but I'm told it does exist here.

the village store at Middlezoy

I met a few of the locals who were also out walking their dogs and more when I went to the village store which is in a small metal demountable in the grounds of the Methodist Church. This is a community store run by volunteers and most importantly it has a small post office in the back of the store, a precious rarity in these rural communities. The local dialect and accent is almost imcomprehensible to my ears. I could barely understand the man who came to mow the lawns. He probably thought I was speaking a foreign language too.