Soft hands, hard work
Last Friday we pilled into the car and set off for the West, counting the roundabouts down the a316 then on to the m3 and finally the a303, whistling past service stations as the city spluttered out and the greenery took over. Theres a rhythm to the journey we're now long accustomed to, Stonehenge is the halfway point but its where things start to slow down (and more often than not grind to a halt). It must be the most disappointing tourist attraction in the world as you've seen it at its best from the road but the stones mark the beginning of the weekend as we pass their mirky bulk. Three weeks ago we had collected boxes and boxes of apples from trees in two orchards just outside Newton Abbot. These were apples that would otherwise have been left to rot on the ground. Some came from trees that had been tagged but most were unidentified, or unidentifiable, as much effort had been spent by the farmer to work out what as growing on his land. There were a range from delicious