As you whizz through the countryside between London and
Birmingham, letting the train take the strain, you pass some pretty but seemingly
unremarkable countryside. This is commuter country. Quant villages and rolling
fields are punctuated by sights of the Oxford and Grand Union canals tangling
with the M40.
There is a viaduct as you speed up after Banbury that carries you over a fairly non-descript area visited mostly for Bicester Village. However, the bimbler knows there is interest in all destinations and time will draw out the beauty in places. Commuterville is not the only reason this is a sought after place to live, it has secrets to unlock to the intrepid few.
There is a viaduct as you speed up after Banbury that carries you over a fairly non-descript area visited mostly for Bicester Village. However, the bimbler knows there is interest in all destinations and time will draw out the beauty in places. Commuterville is not the only reason this is a sought after place to live, it has secrets to unlock to the intrepid few.
Sometimes the weather itself can be all you need; light
playing on the landscape can change ordinary scenery into magical moments.
The November light of short days and cold clear nights can make for some striking scenes throughout the day.
The November light of short days and cold clear nights can make for some striking scenes throughout the day.
Drab fields
are animated by clouds full of life and the odd rainbow hints at pots of Gold.
As the light dips through the sodden clouds magical things happen. In my case a
double rainbow!
A clump of trees takes on a new dimension in the dusky light
of a November evening. Late sun transforms the landscape in moments of clarity.
How can I catch these fleeting glimpses
in words? Perhaps a stab at poetry is my best option. Poems by William Carlos
Williams came to mind as I came across this derelict barn.
The Red Barn
The Dance is nearly over.
Girders creak. Rust diminishes.
Colours fade and run.
Verdigris edges.
The ochre of November.
Ash and Alder line the ditches that bound fields as this is the
plain of the River Cherwell. Transport routes abound invited by the natural
advantages of flatter land following the route of the river.
The Duke of Cumberland’s Head is a mouthful of a pub name
and a good spot for food. It is found in
Clifton which gained its name as a village which grew on the river bank. Northamptonshire is north of the river and
Oxfordshire stretches to the south and Clifton finds itself upon the southern
edge and is mentioned in the Domesday book which outlines cottages and an
agricultural community. The pub is a good place to start two circular walks. Both
start on a green lane at the rear of the pub which takes you into fields of
wheat, beans and maize. You then pop out into the manicured greenery of Banbury
golf course where it is easy to lose the path. I headed East and eventually
found the Oxford canal which took me to a marina or rather series of moorings
by the Great Western Arms which you can just spot from the M40. Beware of the deadly road back to Clifton as
it has no verge and very fast drivers. I would push on a bit further down the
canal and cross the fields back to Clifton as my life flashed before me on this
twilit road as I dove into a ditch.
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