This God is our God for ever and ever;
he will be our guide even to the end.
he will be our guide even to the end.
Psalm 48:14
Our New Home
A 2 metre high lemonade tree in our back garden has branches hanging to the ground,
laden with ripening fruit.
The daily water jug has sliced citrus fruit added, giving the water a nice flavour.
Rhubarb growing under the lemonade tree gave us a tasty desert last night-
cooked with apple and sweetened with sugar.
The Great Outdoors
Memories of England's Coast-to-Coast Walk Tuesday 19th July, 2005
Since I was a child, I have wanted to meet a gypsy! My wish came true today, as I met a gypsy lady out on her daily walk. We had a delightful chat for an hour or so. Here is a little of Penelopy's story below in hubby's daily diary.....
Day 12 Richmond
Up late after a fantastic
night’s sleep in our cosy, second floor bedroom, with windows overlooking
lovely hanging flower-baskets in a courtyard below. We packed and went down to our fourth full
English breakfast since leaving Hong Kong 12
days ago. The first two English breakfasts we had enjoyed at Tomlin House in
St. Bees before starting our long hike, and the third at Grasmere
where we had stayed because of rain and tiredness the previous Wednesday. We had now spent seven nights camping and
four nights at Bed and Breakfast. Our next B & B would be another six days
away, at Robin Hood’s Bay.
It was
a warmer day although still windy. We
heaved up the steep road out of town and onto the road towards
Brompton-on-Swale, through the flat farming land between the Pennines
and the Cleveland Hills. Hiking through the Vale of Mowbray, we kept to the
road rather than choosing the hiker’s path through farms. It was a pretty walk yet busy, and the flat
farm-land for the first time was not farming sheep, but instead we saw paddocks
of wheat and oats which were being harvested in many fields. It was nice to be in the wind – not cold this
time. We enjoyed the full horizon and
the cumulous clouds scudding across the blue sky before the driven wind.
We were resting near the
road when a lady out doing her daily walking exercise stopped to talk to Denise. Her name was Penelopy. She had come from a
gypsie family and had lived her childhood in a gypsie caravan. She had been shell-shocked as a baby during
World War 11 and as a result she had not
ever spoken. At 9 years old, however, when
her mother was discussing sending her to a speech therapist, she anxiously
cried out, “I won’t go!!” Her first
words! As a 10 year old, some 55 years
ago, she was chosen by the gypsie
community as England England
The road was mostly paved
and direct and we made the tiny village
of Danby Wisk
