When I was growing up, it didn't do to breathe in too deeply, surrounded as we were by industry (we're not called Smoggies for nothing) and everywhere and everything coated in a layer of black gritty dust. But times have changed, the iron and steel and most of the chemicals are long gone and we now live on the edge of town with ready access to fields and lungfuls of properly fresh air.
Instead of turning right as we left the house for a walk the other day, we turned left, away from the little park and down the lane towards open countryside.
The Boo was happy to lead the way though always chivvying to stop dawdling with the camera and just get a move on.
Past the farm
and along the cornfield
with a familiar landmark always visible in the distance.
Stopping every now and again to watch the wildlife going about its business
and to nibble the ripening brambles
before veering off the pathway and plunging through the trees and undergrowth
to the edge of the lake.
Many local people don't know this exists, it's so well hidden.
Originally a trout lake, it formed part of the Grey Towers estate, once the home of Arthur Dorman of Dorman Long fame. His old house is now luxury apartments.
Yes, there he is,
and his family, too.
Then it was just a matter of hopping over the stile,
walking through the sheep field
and down the road towards home.
I love spending a couple of hours breathing in the fresh air, me.
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