So, a whole week has now gone by. The lockdown continues, in fact it’s just been extended by at least another three weeks. The furlough scheme has been pushed to the end of June, suspect I’ll hear from work what this means next week.
It’s really rather strange as I haven’t left the estate in a week apart from to walk to Figsbury Ring. Not that I’m complaining but there is a growing sense of unease with not popping out for a pint, going fishing, nipping to the butchers. I’m pretty antisocial at times but I do enjoy the bustle of people around me from time to time, IF I can leave it behind once I’ve had enough.
But out here I don’t see anyone in a day except Roz and Joe.
On a busy day I might see Richard or Jason from the farm as they move from field to field, or one of the keepers, but that would be a busy busy day.
I’m beginning to feel almost guilty having most of 4200 acres around me with no public access to any of it bar a single footpath. I watch the news and am torn knowing that the reason it is so special, particularly for wildlife is because there are no people or dogs.
But as I think of others confined to barracks, perhaps barracks with no grass or mud to feel underfoot, I feel that conflict about private land and lack of access that I always do.
I can’t quite resolve it.
But I can make sure that I make the most of being here, make the most of the time. Make the most of spring and a sky full of birdsong and a woodland floor covered in wildflower.