The Polebrooke Walk: life re-assessed in a blue world

Text by Sir Hardly Anyone and photographs by Tony Attwood.

Now there has been some criticism of late – highly unjustified in my view – of the fact that the title of some of these reports on recent walks by the Peterborough Ramblers groups, do not actually show pictures related to the commentary, and in which the title of the article does not relate to the location!

In my view it is this petty insistence on tiny detail that has undermined the United Kingdom in recent years and indeed brought our economy, our politics, our education system and indeed our ability to repeat ourselves to its knees.

What is needed surely, is the broader vision, the wider view, the grander perspective, the increased ability to use 10,000 words where just half a dozen would have been enough.

Indeed, beyond any doubt, it is this petty attention to insignificant detail that has led to our country falling apart as can be seen by this picture from the Polebrook walk.  I mean to some it appears to be tilting to the left, but viewed from the other side it is tilting to the right, and who is to say?  Indeed does one give in to the naysayers every time just because they say nay?  No, I say. I think not!

And what of this photographic presentation of a signpost for example?   Are we to take it that if we walk along that way that one will find a bridle.  Or come to that a bride?   Again I say no!  For indeed one of my daughters attended primary school in Polebrooke and there was absolutely no talk of her being married off to some local fella, not at all, I’m glad to say, stout yeomen though they are.

Thus I feel we take much of life too literally.  Because I present a picture and say that it is of the south pole, that is not to say it is of a pole!

I mean a lot of what I write is what we literary people call fiction, and the next thing that will be happening will be people will be telling me that it shouldn’t be in the public library because it isn’t true.  And where would we be then?  Up the river without a yeti as the old saying goes, you mark my words, and no mistake.

It was in response to such nay-saying that a mood of blueness swept across our fine walkers on the occasion of the Polebrooke walk, as we paused to contemplate such commentaries, and I feel this is somewhat reflected in the associated photography.

And one might understand why, because this sudden insistence that one actually knows where one is, and whereone is going shook the ensemble, and that shook the Northants environment.

Indeed I feared that such was the feeling that we might not be able to escape, and that blueidity might envelope all of us for all time, overwhelmed us.

Well, of course, the clever-dicks would reply, but that surely is hardly the point is it?   But ’twas true for finally the “blues” as we musicians like to call them, lifted, the skies lightened slightly, and although faces were downcast, the final tracks out of the depths of the fields were found and the marching forthwith proceeded as before. Civilisation we were told was just over the horizon, and the promise made some of us slow down somewhat (although it turned out the pub was shut).  Twas ever thus.