The wood

I must must must go to bed, but today I went to a magic place that I will try to describe in more detail later - a ten acre ancient woodland owned by some friends of mine off a canal near Basingstoke.  Ancient woodland means the trees have been there at least 400 years - not these same trees, perhaps, but there is a particularly lovely yew tree that may be 300 years old.  It's magnificent.  We made a fire and cooked an amazing dinner over it (roasted portabellos, grilled cheese, sausages, salad, bits of lamb, hummus, irish soda bread, cheeses - incredible), and went boating on the canal in a boat that unfolded out of a bag and that came out of a neighbor's shed - the neighbor has a house with a thatched roof, some donkeys and some decorative sheep.

The whole thing was really out of a novel of some sort - the idea of what England is, only this was really happening as if it is completely normal and everyday.  I was...I was delighted.  Charmed.

Now I must go to bed.  Sigh.  So few days, so much to stuff in them.