For city miles, the unfeeling metal architecture of railways: parallel lines and skeleton gantries. Beside the track, spavined, dieseldosed bushes of buddleia. Creeping bramble, as bad as barbed wire. Not much to see.
Slough. Poor Slough. Doomed forever by Betjeman for its urban (lack of) planning and its industrialisation. ‘Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn’t fit for humans now/ There isn’t grass to graze a cow…’
Heading to Reading, towards the dawn. Two white swans on a flooded gravel pit. Morning light on thin water. A sort of relief. Cold optimism.
January is the contrary month, named for the Romans’ two-faced god Janus. A transitional month. The bulk of winter done, spring on the horizon. Often the coldest month of the year (England’s lowest ever temperature, -26.1ËšC, was in January 1982 and recorded in Shropshire), but there’s light at the end of the tunnel.
Beyond the rain-streaked window of carriage B: new-build houses, red-brick homes for humans, where Nature once lived. They are building over England.
Esta historia es de la edición January 26, 2022 de Country Life UK.
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Esta historia es de la edición January 26, 2022 de Country Life UK.
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Nature's own cathedral
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All that money could buy
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In with the old
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