Poets Walking

The summer holidays are almost over, and apart from two road trips to Nottingham to see my mother (and nothing else) (though she is quite enough), I haven't been anywhere at all. This is partially down to coronavirus and partly because there's been a lot to do close to home. So as yesterday dawned fair, the Northerner and I set aside a few hours for a trip to Clevedon, and a wander along Poets Walk, the historical background to which is here.

When something is actually called 'Poets ... ', I'd like to think that's who it's intended for. Back when poetry groups happened in real life, not just via email, I'd always feel a bit aggrieved when I got home from our poetry groups suitably early on a Friday (Poets Day) to find the parking space outside my house had been taken by someone who'd also Pissed Off Early because Tomorrow's Saturday but who probably hadn't written so much as a verse since they were in primary school. 

Obviously I don't really think Poets Walk should be reserved for poets, but it was busier yesterday than I'd seen it before, with all those other stay at homers.

By no means crowded but cliff paths aren't great for social distancing. 

We found a little more space for ourselves and Ted by walking along the edge of the iron-age hill fort on Wain's Hill, with its wonderful views down to Sand Point, Brean Down, Steep Holm and Flat Holm ... 

... before dropping back down to the path above Clevedon Pill, where my great-uncle Joe used to keep his flotilla of boats for hiring out to tourists a century ago. 

Then a quick visit to the World War II pillbox pimpling the face of the far older fortification. 

It's a good place for a look-out, across the estuary to Cardiff ... 

... and back up it.

Poor female blackbird

We wandered around the edge of the Glebe to visit the churchyard.

St Andrew's Church was closed ... 

... but we paid our respects to its resident sheela-na-gig, green man and chough corbels.

... before repairing to a bench to watch a rabbit foraging among the graves ... 

... and a massive car transporter make its way up the channel to Avonmouth.

We rejoined Poets Walk for a short distance ...

... before deviating to skirt Church Hill.

A last view of St Andrew's nestled between the two hills ...

... and an olfactory interrogation on Ted's part of the last two remaining 'Tennyson posts' that constitute the 'Darkened Heart' sculpture erected in 1994 with lines from In Memoriam.  

Then down the hill through the woods to the car park ...

... and home in time for a socially distanced cream tea with the IsamBards, courtesy of David and Alex. 


When shall we three meet again ... ?