Winter Walks: Knettishall Heath

I began writing this with the phone sandwiched in between my cheek and shoulder, listening to the incessant ring on the other line and the occasional dead pan recorded voice telling me to 'please hold' while they searched for an available member of customer service for Great Western Railway. I think someone should preserve that noise and keep it for posterity as one of the most frustrating noises created by humankind. After about 30 minutes (and necessarily listening to Gabrielle Aplin's The Night Bus to keep my sanity) the call was picked up, and I found out from the customer service officer that yes I could send in a letter to refund my ticket, but it would incur a £10 administration charge - for a ticket that cost £12. And that no, I couldn't get a refund for the £20 ticket I had to buy instead of it. I had to mentally remind myself that the poor guy on the other line was not responsible for the ridiculous and unhelpful policies of his company. He is just someone working a not particularly pleasant job for money. And so I sighed and said thank you, and 'that's that I guess', and put down the phone. And turned to memories of a happier day.

On the 27th, we took a drive out to Knettishall Heath for a mid-afternoon walk. The sky had those downward plume clouds that reminded me of when I would sit in my first year room, staring out at the airplane cloud-tails that sliced a diagonal between the corner of my window and the tree that I used to mark the changing of the seasons.

Mum and Auntie Sarah walked together, swinging their arms furiously for more exercise, and Hannah and I walked behind them, laughing at their exaggerated movements. Sisters and sisters.



 At one point, Auntie Sarah trailed behind to talk to a couple she knew from piano-lessons, and after making our way through a wooded area we turned back and couldn't see her at all. Hannah thought we should go ahead, and that she'd find her way to us, but Mum was visibly worried and called for her through the echoe-y trees 'Sarah!' and whistled our family whistle, but there was no reply. (Often in Singapore, when you whistle it, a bird answers with the same notes and you have to distinguish between the bird whistle and answering family whistle. But that bird must be tropical, because I've never heard it call in England.)

Mum was just about to walk back to find her when we saw her in the distance, briskly walking through the trees to catch up with us. Hannah, Mum and I had fallen behind Uncle John, Auntie Mandy, Connie and Ivy as a result of waiting for Auntie Sarah, so Mum and I ran on ahead so we wouldn't lose sight of them, while Hannah waited for Auntie Sarah to reach her. I was so glad to see that Mum, who has had problems with her bones (particularly her knees) relating to osteoporosis for a long time, could run. She's said that her bones seem to be improving and so now a slow jog is a possibility.

 After crossing a few more heaths and turning more corners, we came across wild ponies in the distance. The last time I'd seen them it was in Summer 2015 under brumous clouds, but this wintry day the sky was clear, and two of the ponies were chasing each other and fighting!

Auntie Sarah told us the hilarious story of how, just before the first day of primary school, her family had gone on a walk like this one with another family. The son of the other family owned a tricycle, and Auntie Sarah, just four years old, was convinced that if that boy could ride a trike, well, then so could she. And so she pestered and pleaded to have a go on the trike, and finally was sat on it. To give her a little help with setting off, they pushed her down a slope, and the trike picked up speed, and Auntie Sarah peddled as quickly as her little legs could move. And she was going so fast that she couldn't stop, not even as a wooden gate loomed a the bottom of the slope - crash! She cycled straight into it and her head got wedged right between two of the gate's wooden slats. A hubbub around her, concerning her bleeding forehead and chin, but she didn't start shrieking and wailing until the word hospital was uttered. And that was how Auntie Sarah arrived at her primary school the next day, for her first day at a new school, with her head so covered in bandages that it looked like a dumpling.

We got back to the car as the sun was setting, but there was just enough light on the drive back to spot a herd of deer on a farmer's field. Wild ponies and wild deer in one day!