Taking a Walk: The Somerset

Boiling point on the Somerset Levels

patrick barkham

On the hottest day ever recorded in these isles, I sought a climate-resilient, future-proof stroll beside the River Isle. A heatwave walk to keep us cool. With luck, I hoped, our grandchildren will still be able to enjoy a walk beside water in the supposedly damp landscape of the Somerset Levels when 40oC summers are standard fare. I set out from the hamlet of Ilford in the hot mid-afternoon, the sky bruised purple and yellow, darkening by the minute as if the world’s end was nigh. The most striking feature was not the sultry air but the silence. No human sound anywhere: no tractors, strimmers, trimmers, mowers or chatter. Every living person seemed to be silently hunkered down inside rural Somerset’s deliciously cool, old stone houses.

The only figure I encountered on a 90-minute walk was a headless scarecrow slumped in a wheelbarrow clutching a bottle of wine. Never mind the apocalypse – the world had ended.

I crossed a parched meadow to reach the Isle. In places, the river seemed quite perky, riffling cheerfully over shallow, gravelly sections decorated with languorous aquatic plants.

But mostly it looked despondent: a sluggish, silty brown flow trapped within impossibly steep banks, shaved of all plant life except resurgent nettles.

The river had been dredged and the banks sculpted, so water couldn’t spill out over this low land. It wasn’t a landscape of damp, riverine pasture at all; only beans and barley and parched earth.

I trudged beside the river, searching for the ‘perfect little swimming hole’ of ‘startlingly cold’ water that Roger Deakin discovered in his British swimming journey recounted in the classic Waterlog. Here floated a fertiliser bag; there sank an old tyre. Two hot crows flapped slowly away.

The countryside is the setting for plenty of horror stories and no wonder. It can be a remarkably hostile environment.

Passing a dredging digger, paused as if it was playing musical statues (no music here – too hot for the birds to sing), I found the public footpath blocked by an electric fence. In a land emptied of anyone enjoying it, those who remain can do what they like and to hell with the law.

Simply walking along a footpath felt like a radical declaration. Swimming, as Deakin found, was positively revolutionary.

I squirmed under the electric wire, comedy-commando-style, only to be confronted by a posse of curious cows. It was a relief to correspond with other beings, even if these ones chased me to the far gate.

Past a blank-windowed farm and after wriggling under more electric fencing, I finally found a stretch of the Isle where the river recovered its memory of what it once was.

There were riverside alders, duckweed, trailing water plants and a distinct pool on the bend. When a reed warbler began singing in the reeds, it was like hearing an old friend.

An efflorescence of Himalayan balsam glowed pinkly but at least it provided a pathway down the steep bank. As I slid into the balsam, I wondered why I felt so embarrassed and furtive taking a swim on our hottest ever day.

There were no people to mock, cheer or scold me; only nettles which stung my feet (the stings were so severe they kept me awake that night) and a horsefly which sucked my blood.

I’d like to say the swim was blissful, but the tepid brown water did not encourage me to cool my head and I circled the shallow pool twice, wondering what discarded farm implement would rise from the depths to score my flesh.

At least this dip cooled me enough for my walk briskly back along the lanes – skipping the beautiful church of Isle Abbotts for another day. And it fired feelings of rage and defiance.

We need a rural revolution, so our rivers are restored and life – and most of all, people – returns to our desolate and abused green and pleasant land.

I followed the footpath north beside the river from the hamlet of Ilford and circled back south on the lanes. OS Explorer Map 128: Taunton & Blackdown Hills

el sereno

7 clues lead to answers that require a definition not shown in the wordplay. There is one word common to each that can be added for an expanded solution

Across

1 Respect shortly gets a learner wings on this (7) 5 Venomous snake consumed by desire (7) 9 Confronts experts on origin of flu (5) 10 Chap that ordered a new drink? (9) 11 Port and impressive English river (3,6) 12 Free facilities finally available (5) 13 Player’s instruction to leave vehicle with daughter (4) 15 Left after seeing country gent sheltering Republican (endangered species) (8) 18 The beginning of spring may be fine, boss (8) 19 Group offering advice after son shows evidence of healing (4) 22 Getting on a carriage about noon (5) 24 Spring pudding as butt of joke? (5,4) 26 Suitable material? (9) 27 Smile wryly, swallowing a bit of corn (5) 28 Angry outbursts from one taken in by deals (7) 29 Soldiers foot the bill for sanctuary (7)

Down

1 Have enough for a fine crossing (6) 2 Note dispute in chamber - this could heat things up (9) 3 Step up seeing jockey has a change of heart (5) 4 Show light if clue’s mine originally (9) 5 Pull a face as Charlie’s covered in alcohol (5) 6 Pieces of America? (5-4) 7 Opening bars in Spain? Trouble! (5) 8 Journalist supporting worker caught in this way? (6) 14 Pleased by action to include illumination (9) 16 Lingerie subject to deteriorate (9) 17 Doctor able to speak and explain further (9) 20 Complain - and French must get special welcome (6) 21 Mars may offer clear support for mountain climbing (6) 23 Private meal with no end of food (5) 24 A maiden is out of order (5) 25 Warning sign may be just having to change sides (5)

How to enter Please scan or otherwise copy this page and email it to comps@theoldie.co.uk. With regret, owing to the coronavirus epidemic we are temporarily unable to accept postal entries. Normal procedure will be restored as soon as possible. Deadline: 21st September 2022. We do not sell or share your data with third parties.

First prize is The Chambers Thesaurus and £25. Two runners-up will receive £15. NB: Hodder & Stoughton and Bookpoint Ltd will be sent the addresses of the winners because they process the prizes.

Moron crossword 417

Across

1 Drive backwards (7) 8 Paradise (6) 9 Caresses (7) 11 Canadian city (7) 12 Destined (5) 14 Critical point in time (8) 16 Person with a degree (8) 17 Uninterested, fed up (5) 20 Boom, bellow (7) 21 Equivocation (7) 23 Not uniform (6) 24 Tornado (U.S) (7)

Down

2 Over, surplus (5) 3 Call to mind (5) 4 View (3) 5 Confidentiality (7) 6 Kind, like an uncle (9) 7 Stymied (9) 10 Framework (9) 12 Absent-minded (9) 13 Valued highly (9) 15 Unusually quiet (7) 18 Watering hole (5) 19 Wear away (5) 22 Promise (3) Genius 415 solution

Winner: Brenda Bishop, Lowestoft, Suffolk Runners-up: Hilary Veale, Weymouth, Dorset; Frank Lyness, Kingston upon Thames

Moron 415 solution: Across: 1 Collar, 4 Untie (Collar and tie), 8 Slash, 9 Elegant, 10 Lantern, 11 Stir, 12 Sad, 14 Edge, 15 Idle, 18 Dip, 21 Nose, 23 Oxidise, 25 Tactics, 26 Equip, 27 Paste, 28 Attest. Down: 1 Costly, 2 Learned, 3 Achieved, 4 Used, 5 Trait, 6 Entire, 7 Means, 13 Diligent, 16 Leisure, 17 Instep, 19 Poise, 20 Despot, 22 Sacks, 24 Site.

This month’s hero is English international player Gunnar Hallberg, originally from Sweden (who knew from the name?). As Hallberg says, with the customary twinkle in his eye, ‘My family in Sweden, old Vikings that they are, are now quite proud of the wayward youngster who left a traditional way of life and his country to become a bridge professional.’

Now that he’s in his late seventies and not as mobile as he was, you could be fooled into thinking Hallberg’s mental capacity has lessened. Don’t be – or he’ll eat you for breakfast (or dagmal in Viking-speak).

Watch Hallberg make Four Spades doubled with only three high-card points – the only declarer to do so in the Online Contract Bridge League tournament.

Dealer West North-South Vulnerable

(1) Weak Two. (2) Take-out. North would rather have a fourth spade, but you can’t have everything.

West led the ace of hearts and continued with a second heart, declarer ruffing in dummy and advancing the jack of spades. East rose with the ace, cashed the ace of diamonds (a bit panicky but not in itself fatal), then led a third heart (this, however, was fatal – allowing declarer to shorten his spades).

Ruffing the third heart in hand (and discarding a diamond from dummy), declarer crossed to the king of diamonds and led a spade to the seven. He now crossed to the ace of clubs and ruffed the nine of diamonds, a necessary play to shorten his trumps to the same length as East’s (both with two left).

At trick ten, declarer led a second club to dummy’s king. He then led dummy’s queen of diamonds. East, who was down to queen-eight of spades and a heart, was poleaxed. If he ruffed, declarer could overruff, cash the king of spades (felling East’s queen) and enjoy dummy’s queen of clubs. If East discarded, declarer could release his third club and ‘coup’ East’s spades in the two-card ending, with the lead remaining in dummy. Doubled game made. ANDREW ROBSON

West

♠ ♥ A Q 7 6 5 4 ♦ J 10 3 ♣ J 10 7 4 North ♠ J 4 3 ♥ 9 ♦ K Q 9 7 5 ♣ A K Q 2

South ♠ K 10 9 7 6 5 ♥ 10 2 ♦ 6 4 ♣ 8 6 5 East ♠ A Q 8 2 ♥ K J 8 3 ♦ A 8 2 ♣ 9 3

The bidding South West North East 2 ♥ (1) Dbl (2) 4 ♥ 4 ♠ Pass Pass Dbl end

TESSA CASTRO

IN COMPETITION No 283 you were invited to write a poem called Things Fall Apart. Martin Brown wrote some close parody of Yeats, and when his shopping bag burst, ‘The best splat all the kitchen, while the walls / Are caught with passionfruit at velocity.’ Dorothy Pope had some good lines of her own on solitary old age: ‘My crossword friend phones less. He was a boon. / The man still comes on Fridays with my cod. / The postman’s here some days though not till noon. / He rushes off but gives a friendly nod.’ C Paul Evans examined our experiences with domestic appliances: ‘At first we find our purchase works / But built-in obsolescence lurks.’ Commiserations to them, and congratulations to those printed below, each of whom wins £25, with the bonus prize of The Chambers Dictionary going to David Shields.

Indeed they do, with what panache, By slow decay, not sudden smash, Then migrate to a dresser drawer By some sub-clause of the Second Law Of Thermodynamics.

Entropy’s the motive force, The burden of the Trojan horse That sunders ornament from base, That disengages zip from case And cracks ceramics.

This is the fate in store for all: Your spectacles, Hadrian’s Wall, England’s top order, every rag And fibre of a rain-soaked bag Of books from Hammicks. David Shields

The freezer died last year – its light went out And then its heart. The fridge runs warm, not cold. The watering can has split its mended spout. My favourite sandals (only six years old) Have shed a strap. The greenhouse steps (cement) Are crumbling to non-picturesque decay. Standards in public life, the government? –All shredded, tattered rags of disarray.

My scanner doesn’t scan, nor printer print. The broadband’s on and off, depending on Some inner magic. Filter full of lint, The tumble dryer’s failed, so now that’s gone. The pricey clip on my best ballpoint pen Unclipped itself, got lost; its day is past. Bank passwords? No, their system’s changed, again. I’ve stopped expecting anything to last. DA Prince

We clamber barefoot down the crumbling cliffs, On slimy steps embedded in the clay. Where waves creep in and brown foam idly drifts, We wade to watch our castle melt away.

All afternoon we’ve scooped the sand and delved, Piled pinnacles and sculpted sturdy walls, Flown seaweed flags and studded it with shells –Now to the moat the icy water crawls.

As elder child, I comfort you with tales Of sailors’ spirits gliding from the deep, Of sunken cities, mermen green and pale: ‘They’ll take our castle – guard it while we sleep.’

As serpentining fingers coil and claim Our fortress for their own, you’re not consoled: You know my far-fetched stories are in vain, The tide’s relentless – and our dreams grow cold. John Clark

When I was young I was curvy and fun, But age is not kind To body or mind. You once loved my tits, My legs and my ‘bits’, But now you prefer The meals that I cook, A pint down the pub And a bloody good book. Susan Greenhill

COMPETITION No 285 What with fleeces and anoraks, perhaps coats play less of a part in life. But from childhood to age, in town and country they used to be with us always. So a poem called A Coat, please. Maximum 16 lines. We still cannot accept any entries by post, I’m afraid, but please do send them by e-mail (comps@theoldie.co.uk – don’t forget to include your own postal address), marked ‘Competition No 285’, by 22nd September.

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virginia ironside

Flowers for a late friend

QA dear friend of mine has died – a friend who loved her garden, and who had a herbaceous border which was a riot of colour. I had known her since we were at school. I was just planning to send a bouquet – one I know she would have loved – for her funeral, when I got a rather cold note from her daughter, saying, ‘No flowers, please. Donations to the National Trust.’ I used to be a strong supporter but now I’m very much against their ‘woke’ agenda, and shrink from giving any money to them. What am I to do? I know my friend agreed with me, but she obviously never told her daughter.

A J, by email

AI would give money to Restore Trust (restoretrust.org.uk), the charity that is pro the National Trust in principle, but wants it to return to its original remit. That way, you’ll be supporting both your friend and her daughter. If you become a member of the National Trust as well, then you can vote at their AGMs and hopefully bring more sanity to this once fantastic organisation. As for flowers, again, I’m with you. Cut flowers are a harmless metaphor for sacrificing animals at funerals, and the sight of those dying blooms brings home the beauty of life and the tragedy of death in a way nothing else can. Don’t flaunt them at the funeral if they’re unwanted, but buy some for your own home and remember your friend and honour her every time you pass them, till the last petal drops.

I hate being on my own

QBereaved a couple of years ago, I am horrified at how difficult I am still finding being on my own. I have friends but they are mainly couples, and I just can’t find anything to occupy me when I’m not socialising. When my husband was alive, I used to have lots of interests outside marriage, but now that he’s not there to tell me about things when I come home, I’ve become depressed and uninterested, particularly when we were locked up. My friends say I must learn to be on my own, and even my therapist seems to think that I’m somehow odd being unable to cope on my own, but I’ve always needed company, ever since I was small. Zoom doesn’t do it for me.

Name and address supplied

AIt was EM Forster who said, ‘Only connect’ – and he was right. Human beings aren’t constructed to be loners. On the whole, we’re shoal animals like fish; not walk-by-herselfers like cats. A goldfish in a bowl alone is an absolutely tragic sight. There’s a reason that solitary confinement is the worst punishment there is – worse, I’d say, than death. Cruse (cruse.org.uk) would probably be able to put you in touch with other widows and widowers in your area who feel the same as you. If you could arrange with one of them to have a weekly walk and a daily chat on the phone, it would be better than nothing. And obviously if you have a spare room, try to let it out to someone. They’d probably be company for the occasional coffee, and hearing their step in the house, their shower running or even their bedroom door close could make a huge difference. If you’re worried about where guests would go, get a luxury zed bed and put them up in your living room.

Our son seems to hate us

QWe used to love our son coming over but now he and his new partner seem to rejoice in coming round to bully and criticise us. According to them, we’re doing everything wrong. We’re using clingfilm, we’re not rinsing out the jars and bottles properly, we’re putting shiny paper in the recycling, we’re buying the wrong sort of car, using the wrong washing cycle, not collecting everything for compost… It is getting so wearing. We don’t want to fall out with him and his partner but it’s as if he hates us suddenly.

Jim and Sheila, by email

AHe’s trying to show you, his partner and, most importantly, himself that although he loves you, he doesn’t need you. He wants the world to know that he has grown up and is not umbilically attached to you any more. It’s not that he hates you at all. He is just trying to make clear that he is completely separate from you, now that he’s a man. I would, as far as you can, just grin and bear it. Listen to his views but change your ways only if you want to. I think once you understand where he’s coming from, his ranting won’t upset you so much. He’s like a little boy marching out of the house with his tiny suitcase declaring that he’s running away from home. Stand firm and you’ll find he soon returns. At the last resort, suggest that, in future, if your home and your behaviour anger him so much, you might meet in a local café or shop. If he offers to pay, let him. It’ll make him feel less dependent.

Please email me your problems at problempage@theoldie.co.uk; I will answer every email – and let me know if you’d like your dilemma to be confidential.

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