The world from my window

It's the longest day today, the summer solstice, and I'm in a field of wheat  making my way up towards one of my favourite places. I never wear headphones on my walks because I enjoy listening to the natural sounds around me: the song of the skylark, the wind in the hedge, a tractor starting up on a nearby farm, a collie dog barking and a mole rustling at my feet. And then I hear, in the distance, the train going up to Crewkerne and then on to London and I think to myself, I'm so glad I'm out here in the wide open countryside, with just the dog for company. Give me land, lots of land, under starry skies. Or Dorset blue ones in this case. And then Julianna Barwick's wonderfully evocative, choral loops just enter into my ears, as if by magic. The grass has been cut for hay so we can walk down to The Wishing Tree without getting wet to way past our knees. The dog and I march along the striped carpet underfoot, which is not unlike something I'v...

'It's true,' the old man in the pub said. 'If you look out across from here on the longest day, you'll see the sun setting between those two chimney pots.' 'It's true,' he said. 'I'll bet you a thousand pounds.' I'm not a betting woman but as the owner of one of those chimney pots, I was intrigued. 'Yes,' said the chap next to him. 'And when it happens, a shaft of light runs across the village square, like the Staff of Ra in Raiders of the Lost Ark , pierces through the pub window until its reflection hits the Palmer's 200 pump and then it hares off at a ninety degree angle to hit that stuffed deer head on the wall. 'And then the deer does a winky face, a cigar appears in its mouth and it starts to sing Summertime .' This was an unnecessary embellishment on an already curious tale, but I could sort of visualise it happening in a place as odd as Lush Places. 'Don't listen to 'ee,'...