Tag Archives: Bill Bryson

A Walk in the Woods . . .

. . . without Bill Bryson.

Bluebells Captain's Wood

As part of Sudbourne Manor given to Bishop Æthelwold by Kind Edgar C959-963 who then granted the land to a Benedictine Monastery, this ancient woodland has been owned by bishops, noblemen and moneyed landowners through the centuries until more recently it was acquired by Suffolk Wildlife Trust. It showcases, if I can use use that word in the same paragraph with ‘wildlife trust,’ a breathtaking display of bluebells in the spring.

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Would you care to join me Restless Jo for a stroll in the bluebell wood?

A bench with a view,
Of a sea of blue,
There’s water here too,
But no beach for you,

Bluebells, Captain's Wood, Suffolk UK

The End of the Road?

Bill Bryson in The lost Continent was looking for the prettiest town in America but falls short of finding one with all his desired attributes so goes about constructing his dream town of Amalgam from different towns with the bits he takes a shine to. A motel here, a Main Street there, a barbershop, a five-and-dime, an authentic and original movie theater, not the dreaded multiplex with screens the size of “bath towels.” A picturesque downtown with real stores were cherry-picked and, well, amalgamated.

As I pondered this we were on a long straight stretch of county road through rural Georgia. A gaggle of police cars with blue lights flashing appeared in the distance. A fierce-looking state trooper waived us down. My eyes fixed on the gun in his holster that bobbed on his disproportionately large hips. He approached, proceeded by his belly and a big cigar and grimly informed us that he was going to do an “equipment check.”

So it’s to be Georgia where we are disappeared by the local police – not Louisiana, not Alabama, not Texas as some so-called friends and erstwhile relatives had led me to believe.

Step out of the car. Hands behind your head. On your knees. Bang! was the scene that flashed through my mind and knocked out all thoughts of a pretty home town.

Before I had a chance to beg for my life the trooper had checked our headlights, blinkers, brake lights and horn. When he’d decided we were fit to continue to drive through his state his pudgy face softened into friendliness.

“You’ve come a long way,” he chuckled on seeing our Washington license plates. Little did he know that that was our second pass ’round the country – on track for 20,000 miles by the time we looped back to Washington State.

Jimmy replied, “We didn’t do it all today,” and they laughed companionably.

“Well y’all drive safe. God love ya!” and his toothy grin was topped off by twinkling eyes.

God and the State Trooper seem to love us enough to let us pass through Georgia.

If God really loved me He’d find me a house in Amalgam.