Daedalus, excluded, has anyone ever killed two birds with one stone?
We’ve already escaped. And in no need of extra feathers. Scoot too manly for a boa. So he never ventures that close to the sun. We take flight. Hightail it. Let him stretch his wings as he flies us down to Thorpeness. A bit further than a stone’s throw from Applefields.
Thorpeness is a delight. Picture book images around every corner. We’ve heard there’s even a house in the clouds, perched opposite a windmill. We ask a local for directions. Get chatting to Jane outside her front gate. A metallic blue, open top Fiat 124 Spider, cruises throatily down the lane towards us, pulls up. The cool looking driver is smartly dressed in black. He’s wearing his white collar, back to front. “Hi James. If you’ve got a minute, would you like to see around my garden?” “Sorry Jane, I’m on my way to do an interment. Next time?”
Hiding her disappointment we become James’s subs. Get ushered on to her field of play for a short tour. Jane’s self designed garden a really interesting mix of plantings. It’s not every day a stranger invites you in to view their garden. The last time we experienced that privilege was ten year’s ago, on Christmas Eve. In Cuba!
Jane directs us down a couple of short cut ginnels and across a small copse.
We decide to kill the second bird. Take a short shingle side stroll to Aldeburgh. Get side tracked by a shell. It’s unusually large.
