On Monday 23 March 2020, due to the coronavirus outbreak, the
Government decreed that everyone should stay at home to slow down the spread of
the virus. We are permitted ‘to exercise once a day, alone or with members
of your household'. So I went out for a local walk. We live in Northampton,
near the River Nene and the site of the Battle of Northampton in 1460, during
the War of the Roses. From our front door there is a three-mile off-road walk,
down to the river and across the site of the battle. Although that war took
place more than 500 hundred years ago, I am told that arrowheads can still be
found, deep underground. We call it the 'battlefield walk' and I must have
traversed it over 100 times in the last 30 years, sometimes with my wife,
sometimes on my own, and occasionally with family and friends. It never fails
to please me.
On my return my wife says, ‘You've got a black eye. You've been
fighting.’ I look in the mirror and sure enough I do have a black eye. So I
draw myself up to my full height (which used to be over 6 feet but is now
rather less) and adopting a pompous magisterial tone, say: ‘I accept that I have
a black eye and I accept that I have just visited the battlefield where the
Earl of Warwick and the Duke of Buckingham slugged it out in 1460. In those
days fighting was acceptable and even encouraged but our current Government
last Monday told us to stand at least two metres away from each other, so no
fighting is allowed. I have not been fighting but I admit to having just had an
altercation with a horse. To the best of my knowledge, there are no Government
restrictions about talking to horses. I can explain everything.’
‘A horse?’ she must have thought. ‘He's babbling about horses. It
is not coronavirus disease, but I think he's gone stir crazy because of this
social distancing.’ I felt like the habitual drunkard, back from the pub,
lurching over the threshold, tie round the back of his neck, hair all over the
place, eyes bloodshot, voice slurred. She looks at him in disgust. ‘You're
drunk again. It's horrible. Go away.’ ‘No, no,’ he says, ‘I can explain
everything. I've just been for a little walk in the park.’
However, on this occasion I am not drunk or crazy. The horse is
called Antonia. She's a Shire horse, heavily built, weighs nearly a tonne; not
one of your namby-pamby thin-as-a-stick neurotic thoroughbreds. Her ancestors
would have spent their lives ploughing and carting. She is usually tethered on
a long chain on the rough grass beside the river. Antonia and I are friends. I
have met her owner a number of times. He visits her twice a day and she always
has a plastic trough of water and usually some hay. On our first meeting some
years ago, I stupidly asked him why he kept a horse on this rather isolated
patch of ground. Was it for horse meat? ‘Certainly not,’ said he and was
rightly offended at the very idea. Antonia was his friend, just like others
might have a dog. Her coat is glossy and her tail is combed right down to the
ground. A curtain of soft hair falls over each of her large hooves, like a hula
skirt. She is well cared for.
Today, Antonia sees me coming and says to herself, ‘Ha! Here comes
my friend. Horse meat indeed! He looks a bit less firm on his feet than a few
years ago and I'm told he is well over 90. I'll see if I can tip him over. It
will be a bit of sport in these lonely days.’ She nuzzles my shoulder and not
finding anything to eat, decides to trot away, causing her tether chain to
tighten and act as a trip wire. I am tipped over, headfirst on to the grass,
glasses awry. One lens has fallen out of the frame. As I sit recovering,
searching for the knocked-out lens, I think I hear her laughing as she walks
slowly back towards me. However, I am
discombobulated with this encounter and I ignore her, setting off home with one
lens missing and my composure disturbed.
No hard feelings. I have re-fixed the lens, the black eye is
recovering and I will take her a biscuit next time. We will stay friends,
Antonia and I. We are all in this together.
***
Each day, we will post a
short article by one of Darton, Longman and Todd’s amazing authors, offering a
personal reflection on our current situation in life. Sometimes this will be
written with reference to one of their books, and sometimes about how they are
living in response to the coronavirus and our current world situation. We hope
it will give you a taste of the depth and diversity of DLT’s list – books for
heart, mind and soul that aim to meet the needs and interests of all.
Today’s post is by Roger
Sawtell, author of Under One Roof: The
Story of a Christian Community,
which you can buy in print or as an eBook here.
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