St Neot

Monday, May 17. Everyone else was at school, I went in search of bluebells again. The checkout operator in Morrisons at the weekend said that there were plenty on the road to St. Neot. I knew that was down near Trago Mills, so I got a shopping list together and set off.

Well, I did see bluebells up a slope to my right as I approached the town. However, there was nowhere to stop and have a good look at them. These Cornish roads do not have road shoulders, and the small ones that lead to villages are often only wide enough for one car.

St Neot itself was a very bright and trim village. Lots of well-tended gardens, and all- it seems they won village of the decade or some such a couple of years back. There was a beautiful parish church dominating the landscape, as they so often do around here. I saw a priest in full fig - black frock down to his toes - scurry off somewhere. Anyway, I had a wander around the town. I found this statue of St Neot in a community gardens... some story of his having a pond with fish in it that would never run out as long as he only got one a day.

I struck out along a path near a stream for a bit, looking for bluebells. There weren't any, but there was this lovely red-leaved tree. I had another go of the automatic camera - here's me on the shady path.

I was a bit unnerved on the way back. My way lay along a farm track, and there was a sheepdog lying on a wall with his head on his paws, looking intently at me. The road ran straight up to him.

I couldn't walk up to him! Too confrontational. I veered off into a field near the stream, which was quite boggy, and had to do a bit of tricky climbing along a brambly fence over running water to cut the corner. Curse my dog nerves! I'm all right if they are just ambling along on a walk, but when they are on their own territory I daren't go near them.

Back to the car and the shops without incident after that.