Brunton Turret ...

We were dropped off at The Robin Hood Inn early Monday morning - the doors to its welcoming bars were shut  fast - glasses of wicked ales had yet to be poured - Richard Green still smirked on his sign - 

We'd got our Hadrian's Wall Trail Passports stamped there yesterday - I'd stared gleefully at the emperor's inky face - 

We met Julie and Paul, Alyson's friends, who'd driven up from Manchester - Julie ate wild raspberries as we walked towards Wallhouses - 

We climbed high stiles, gazed upon wild flowers with their magical names -

That's Lady's Bed Straw Penny would say - and there, that's Bird's foot trefoil - 

Young nettles stung my legs - I savoured the resinous scent of pines - 

Julia told me about spending a Christmas Eve in Nepal - she'd sat by the porters' fire, singing them a Tudor carol - 

We lingered by a stretch of wall, just beyond Heavenfield - the lichened stones were warm and smooth - 

Outside Chollerford, we made our way up a sunlit field -

I scrambled over the remains of a turret like an eager boy, joyous and looking for wonders - 

July 7 2014

Brunton Turret

Chollerford