I drive home to pick up a few things and go through the mental list of things I need to sort out in the hour break I have between meetings.
I am blessed. I live and work in one of the most beautiful parts of England. The rolling green hills and hedges guide my little Terios, adorned with South African memorabilia, to it’s next destination – Larcombes – to have a key cut, The Pharmacy – to pick up a prescription the doc has left there for us, and a quick nosey at what Lynette in the local patisserie has on her lunchtime nibbles counter.
I drive off with a home-made sausage role and a coeur d’amande – it seems perfect for this thunder-showery Friday.
It used to be often that I long for a past life of corporate structure, visionary product plans and extensive review meetings, but these occurrences are being slowly overshadowed by the joys of small-town living, countryside delving, and the thought of a forage for some wild garlic this evening to serve with the salmon.
This is Beaminster.
And it is great.
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