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An escape to the country
By Brian Parsons
A country boy born and bred, conned into a twelve year stint in the Army, released at last at the age of 28, dumped into an alien civvy street with a wife, young family and no trade of any use. That,s how this nation treats it's heroes, (not that I considered myself as one, not having seen a shot fired in anger! But all the same if I were.
Finally, settled in a rented terrace house in the back streets of Coventry, far from the green and pleasant land of my youth in Dorset. Abject poverty, the dole, 1970,s the winter of discontent, thank you,Mr PM Heath for the three day week, miners strikes, postal strikes,fireman strikes, strike-breaking Green-Goddess fire engines, and union pickets.
Finally, after ten grueling years, having gained enough expierience in carpentry on building sites and the kids being half grown, the chance to move back south happenned by sheer chance, a job opportunity. Poorly paid and a tied situation (house with the job), but a chance to move all the same.
We moved to a cottage at the back of a stately home,
well a mansion at least, Tetton House at Kingston-St-Mary
near Taunton in Somerset. The home of a minor member of the Earls of Pembroke clan, although Mervyn Herbert did not consider himself minor, I,m sure. The job was actually my wife,s! She became a house parlourmaid to this aging intelectually starved tyrant and was treated no better than a serf, as were all the staff!
Meanwhile, I was a happy bunny, living on this huge estate, set in the lower slopes of the Quantock hills.
For a while, it was like a return to my childhood,
when I lived on a three hundred acre farm. Every day, that summer of 1980, it was almost like those long ago school holidays that seemed to last forever.
I walked those hills, from one end to the other, right to the coast at Westquantockshead and to St.Audries
bay. I drank cider in the village pubs with those good old boys, the local farmers and brewed wine and beer at home
as well.
But,it could,nt last! I was so busy enjoying this
escapism, that I had not realized that my wife was on the edge of a total mental breakdown through the antics of the lunatic Laird Mervyn.
That,s another story, but the great escape was over.
In less than a year we had left that idylic place, but not too far and nearly 30 years later, I still walk those hills, albeit at a much slower pace. My wife of that time has passed on and another has taken her place, Such is the way of the world. Until next time..............
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Contributor's Note
This is probably the most boring script you,ve ever read, if so, I,m sorry. I am not a writer, just a sentimental old fool. Thank you for your time.
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