THE ROMAN SAUSAGE RUN

(click any picture to enlarge)

The Romans built a road from their port/fort near Hythe to Ashford where it met their road from the Wealden ironworks on its way towards Canterbury. Most of it is still used as an arrow-straight country lane, but it became abandoned near my home and runs under the gardens of the house next door.

This road is my route to the village of Aldington

and about once a month my bicycle takes me the 5 miles to a rural gem of a shop by the roadside, both butcher and baker, slaughtering their own meat and baking their own cakes and pastries.

The aim is to take on supplies of their delicious and varied sausages to restock the freezer. (This time I chose pork and apple, pork with stuffing, pork with hops and beef with horseradish).

Ten miles does not constitute a cycle ride however so, saddle bag sausage-laden I continued in the sunshine along Rome's road, passing the historic pub which was the headquarters of notorious smuggling gangs in earlier times. The scene of running battles (and deaths) with "The Revenue" and the "Aldington Gang".

My goal was the village of Lympne (pronounced "Limm").

Its name a corruption of the Roman name for their fort and port, "Portus Lemanis". Itself named after the defunct river estuary of the River Limen.

A winding path takes me to the escarpment overlooking a panorama of Romney Marsh. Time for a coffee break and the puff-pastry pecan plait (how's that for alliteration?) picked up with the sausages.

Below me are the remains of an outpost of ancient Rome. The 2nd century "Saxon Shore" fort protecting the harbour of the port and home to part of the Roman-British fleet the "Classis Britannicus". All is now tumbled ruins. Landslip and stone robbing for the nearby mediaeval castle has left but the crumbled stone stumps.

Looking across and beyond one sees a sanitised canal cutting through arable fields towards the seawall in the distance. The canal all that remains of the River Limen, the seawall converting what was a vast tidal bay into modern farmlands. The picture below looks back to the fort . One must imagine the salt waves lapping to the line of trees at the bottom of the escarpment in Roman times. The Castle, built from the Roman stones stands at top right.

However - enough of musing on history and Kipling's "Salt marsh where now is corn" . The coffee is drunk, the pastry eaten. The way beckons.

Sausages were on the menu that evening.

A LITTLE BIT OF ALAN BENNETT

HHnB and I recently had an email discussion about Alan Bennett, a wry, gentle author and playwright whom we both enjoy.

One (amongst many) of his bon mots comes in his play and film "The History Boys" and it puts into words something felt, but very hard to express. So perfect and sweet it is that I thought it worth sharing with those who may not know it. The teacher of English, Hector, says to a pupil:

"The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - which you thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours."

Now isn't that just perfect and what would one give to be taught by such a man.

"ONLY A DOG"

Sabre "found" us, aged two. He came from the German Shepherd Rescue Society, untrained, ungroomed tangled coat and with the strength of a young horse. However, I have an affinity with dogs and with the help of a Halti lead and that splendid book, "The Dog Listener" he learnt that I, not he, was the Alpha Male.

Happy with this understanding he took his place in our "pack" and became a great softy who loved a romp with our 6 grandchildren - I have a happy memory of him vainly trying to shepherd them as they ran over a local field.

We caravan and he was a constant companion on all our holidays, making the load area of the estate car his own sleeping area. When we visited towns or country houses he was happy to be left guarding the car, loosely chained with the back door open.

With us he "triangulated" England. From Hadrian's Wall in the North,

where he became "mascot" to my fellow members of The Ermine Street Guard,

South-West to the Cornish coast

and, nearer to home in the South-East, walking the paths above the White Cliffs of Dover with my eldest grandson.

Reaching the age of twelve he was still happy to romp in the recent February snows.

Three days before our Australian holiday he showed signs of panic and distress - meandering around the house, pushing his head into tight corners and upsetting objects. He was due to be cared for by our son and I could not leave with him in this state, so the day before we flew I took him to the vet. She immediately diagnosed a brain tumour, to which elderly Shepherds are susceptible. Our eyes met and I knew there was only one decision to make.

A great English countryside writer is able to tell the rest far better than I:

"he died, swiftly and easily, with his head in my hands. Such is the price of love, which exacts nothing less than a part of ourselves, great or small, according as the occasion and our temperament decree. A dog is, of course, only a dog. His death is universal and not new. Two thousand years ago a Greek countryman suffered a similar bereavement, whereof the monument was discovered by archaeologists. "If," said the inscription, "you pass by this way, and happen to notice this stone, do not laugh, even though it is only a dog's grave. Tears fell for my sake, and the earth was heaped above me by a master's hand, who likewise carved these words."

Goodbye old friend.

HOME AGAIN

What can I say? We had a wonderful 6 weeks with our daughter

and Australian relatives. The Aussies lived up to their reputation for throwing a good one when they gave us a great Golden Wedding Party

As many will know from her site, HHnB constructs mosaics and her present to us was a beautiful bird bath made with her own fair hands and showing Golden Wattle (Australia's national emblem) for a Golden Wedding . Fortunately business class air travel allowed for weightier baggage, since the bowl is of very substantial earthenware measuring some 30cm across by 8cm deep!

Now safely installed on a pedestal on our lawn, the birds are already making use of it.

And our presents to each other? They had to reflect our celebration in Australia, so Mrs Avus received an opal pendant set in white gold, chosen in the Fremantle Opal shop and I, naturally, chose an Akubra "Snowy River" hat.

As to our Australian experiences? I can do no better than quote from her national poet (who wrote "Waltzing Matilda"):

"And the bush has friends to meet him,and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars"

OFF ON OUR TRAVELS

Well, the time has almost arrived for Mrs Avus and I to be off to Western Australia for 6 weeks (albeit by Boeing 747, rather than BMW motorcycle - although that would have been an interesting experience of REAL travel!).

The Perth area contains a good number of Avus' relatives. Our daughter, of course, my wife's sister and brother and numerous in-laws, cousins and niblets (collective noun for nephews/nieces). Looking forward to seeing them all again and celebrating our Golden Wedding whilst there.

So there may be some "interruption of service" for a while where this blog is concerned. However, if I get my hands on my daughter's PC, on a wet afternoon, who knows.....

There could be a "posting".

FOR VALONIA

I have always felt a little ambivalent about publishing my picture on the blog, but since Valonia has blown my cover (see previous post's comments) I have decided to come clean.

Word Verification

I am joining Lee (amongst others) in turning off Word Verification on the "comments" form. I know it's supposedly there to stop spam, but it is a source of irritation.
(If I now get flooded with spam I shall curse Lee and turn it back on)