Friday, 27 July 2012

Thou Shalt Find a Way

Thwarted in my attempt to reach a refuge of salvation, at this crucial point on my epic trek across the Wilds of deepest Hertfordshire, I awaited a Miracle.

Ok guys, bear with me, it was a field of in-traversable rape seed and I was trying to get to a pub. For the benefits of this blog I invite you to show a robust willingness to suspended your disbelief. And you will need it if you are going to believe this next bit, but i assure you it is all absolutely true. Staring around me at this expanse of slowly undulating, green and yellow field, I saw my Saviour. The capital letter is no typo.

Here I was rejoined by same follicley-blessed Nature Guru who thought it prudent to sidestep my companionship no more than a couple of hours earlier. He stood at the side of the field, a stones throw away, staring intently across to the other side. His quaff of shaggy, greying hair and wise-long beard swayed in harmony with field. Slowly, and with great ceremony, the Journeyman raised his arms high above his head, palms held outwards. His beard moved and looked like he was mouthing some words. At that moment, I-kid-you-not, the wind picked-up very suddenly. I was buffeted by strong gusts which made me check my footing. Out on the field, a dozen, turbulent swirls danced about, as the wind grew ever stronger. On a journey that had been, up to now, wind-free, I was astonished at this spontaneous phenomenon that was now whipping about me, but not as astonished as I was to see The Guru stepping purposefully forwards, into the field. I could only see his head and arms, now, above the height of the crop. How was it possible that he was able to do this? Did he possess Moses-like powers that allowed him to part the field at His will.

I quickly made my way to the place where I saw him enter the field. For the life of me I could not see a gap in the wall of green. Looking up I could only see his mop like head, like a dark, shark fin moving stealthily though water. I looked closely, again, at the mass of green. Then I saw it. There was an area of bare earth beneath a section of the field, which meant that here you could get a firm footing. This must have been how he did it. In a similar fashion to he, but with various, profanities as my spellbinding-words, I raised my forearms into a snow plough style, with hands clasped together in prayer and plunged forward into field. The thick crop resisted, but, mercifully, gave way as I pushed my way through. Using his distant Afro as a direction point, I continued to push my way forward through the field, along this slightly less-dense strip. In this way, and with great relief, I eventually emerged out the other end. Exhausted and entirely alone.

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