This really is England's and Wales' green and pleasant land. A day's walk along the border on the Offa's Dyke. Minimal cattle, playful adolescent lambs, low flying red kites, blankets of buttercups, only some pain, and every kind of green - the green of high grass, wet grass, dark conifer green, ancient woodland green, the green of new meadow, of distant hillside, of young wheat fields that look like they would feel as soft as stroking a cat from a distance, and then the sharp quick bright blue dart of a kingfisher. And then tea in old glass cups and saucers in an odd but delightful cafe full of crime and sci fi novels in Knighton, where the proprietors couldn't help but push reading material our way. I am being very kindly ferried between places in an odd order but slowly piecing sections together at the moment with the new experience of walking with a stick.
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