The satisfaction of a cloppity clop

Having finished our tasks for the day, Mirinda and I took the girls for a jaunt across the fields and sandy tracks of Farnham Heath this prevening and it looked gorgeous. A few other people had decided to do the same thing but they were never close enough to be annoying…or contagious.

We saw four horses, which is quite unusual. Not apocalyptically at once, I hasten to add. Two groups of two riders passed us by with a very satisfying cloppity clop.

I find the sound of a walking horse quite satisfying. Particularly when there’s an absence of traffic, planes or small hysterical children.

Speaking of small hysterical children, the two young boys in the Dead House were screaming like banshees today while I was making dinner. At first I thought it was some horrific murder being enacted two doors down but, having popped my head outside to check, realised it was some sort of horrific game instead.

Hopefully they will have grown bored by this particular game by tomorrow as I’ll be recording this week’s FATN edition and screeching boys would no doubt be heard in my less than sound proof office.

Given tomorrow’s recording, I subsequently spent most of the day in my office preparing the articles for it. I’m down to read with Ann again tomorrow so I had to perform the old cut and paste (or the Lockdown equivalent of clip and insert) with the local paper.

This kept me quite busy so I didn’t get to sample the world outside until we headed off to the Heath late on. Though, at least I didn’t need an midge protection.

That might seem like an odd statement to make however, it’s (sort of) relevant.

Having watched/listened to the Watt’s Gallery talk on Ruskin the other day, I decided we should buy the current Exhibition Guide. It arrived today – it’s beautiful – and I was struck by a rather peculiar fashion item: the midge protector head sack.

Awful protection against midges by John Everett Millais (1853)

There’s a lovely piece about it here. I rather like the fact that neither the midges nor the sacks have prevented them from smoking.

I took a photo of the image in the book and I apologise to whoever feels aggrieved by that. However, I’d like to think that Millais would be happy for me to show it in order to give people a light laugh at the artists’ expense.

And thus ended my day. Apart from cooking dinner, of course, which was venison tonight.

Farnham Heath, where the stumps wear shades
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