Willowford Farm, monk fish & bacon pie, memories of a cat I'd known ...

Willowford Farm was only yards from the Wall - we'd walked a mile or so from Gilsland - 

A high arched bridge spanned a shallow river - dark trees overlooked shining water - purple campion bordered our narrow path - 

I had eaten monk fish and bacon pie in the Samson Inn - I felt a little tipsy after the Golden Plover - 

I'd seen no sign of life inside the stone cottages of the village - I imagined shadowy figures climbing creaking stairs, fireplaces full of cold ashes - 

There were two sheep dogs waiting for us in the farmyard -  they looked at us with their calm, wise, eyes - 

My room was simply and elegantly furnished - I walked barefoot upon slate floor tiles - the shower was a wonder of glass and chrome - jets of warm soothing water played upon my body - 

I lay on the bed, staring up at the gnarled wooden beams above me - a tiny purring kitten leapt upon my chest - I thought of Galloper, a cat I'd known one desperate summer - my eyes filled with tears - 

Later, we all met in a warm room, adjoining the farm kitchen, reading and talking - I felt that I'd known my companions for years - 

Set into the wall of the barn was a stone carved with Latin names - 

Outside, darkness covered trees and stone - 

22.00

July 11 2014

Willowford Farm