No sooner had I asked where the wet weather was than it turns up on my doorstep. It's a dreary dull morning here in the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire, though I should say it's stopped raining just this last few minutes ago.

It seems I chose the right day for my hike. Yesterday I stopped for a breather in a small out-of-the-way field to enjoy the sunshine and the little enclave of rural bliss that is Horse Meadow. Four horses quietly grazed elsewhere. White, bay, black, and a curiously unsocial palomino stared at his colleagues as they wandered slowly across the finely cropped grass.

Eventually the horses migrated across the field in search of nourishment, or as they got closer, curiosity as to what this human being was doing. They were a little unsure of whether to approach or not, and eventually the palomino plucked up the courage to say hello.

To be honest, the sight of a horse, albeit not a particularly big one, looming over me as I sat in the sun was a bit intimidating. I had no choice but to stand up. The horse, finally satisfied I wasn't going to feed it or ride it, decided to investigate my rucksack. Oh no you don't! I'm not going through that again!

Fares Up Again

Citizens are outraged. Letters are being written. Journalists are rubbing their hands at another scandal. It seems the bus fares are being increased today and no-ones happy about it. Not only that, some bus routes are being discontinued. If this carries on we'll be riding horses again. At least until the government realise and tax them.

Caught Red Faced

talking about the council, it seems they've been striving to stamp out unwanted srtreetside adverts. Apparently you need planning permission for those, which involves many forms to fill, offices to visit, people to beg uselessly to. How amusing that the council have caught one of their own facilities advertising their services on a banner without permission. Ooops.

Local History

i saw a fascinating article about an archaeological dig at Lydiard Park, the grounds of a stately home not far away. Considering the era was only the last century calling it archaeology seems a bit exaggerated, but it's interesting nonetheless.

Apparently, like many other lcountry estates, it was taken over by the military in the Second World War. used as a training base for the Home Guard, then assigned to the US Army, then after D-Day used as a POW camp until 1948, when it was turned into temporary housing until 1961.

Can you imagine living in a community of crude nissen huts in a muddy field? Sometimes it feels like I've got it bad today. Stories like this remind me I haven't.