Once again, it took me an hour to extract myself from my nice warm duvet (we’ve had a few very very cold snaps here recently); the sun rose at 7.24am; I had my thermals on and the sun was thawing the thin layer of frost outside, and I forgot when I got cooking; breakfast was served; and once seated with the now usual fried egg, I turned the headlines on. There was quite a lot of bird activity outside in the cold; after my plate I warmed myself up by a radiator, brushed my teeth, wrestled my jeans on and put on a thermal top from a charity shop, irritated myself by getting muddled about today’s destination (as I’d forgotten where I’d been told we’d be going which was Brandon Marsh Wildlife centre); and when the car got moving – it was 3°C – with a feeling of 1°c – at 10.52am: frost was still on the cars that sun hadn’t shone on, Coventry’s incinerator was visible puffing out dark grey smoke, we followed a very old metal car that I was told was from 1968, a big Walkers Crisps lorry was heading down a road I forgot the name of because the speed bumps/blobs on that road made me wonder why the bumps spread all the way across the road never seem to appear now; the lane to the marsh was horrendously bumpy, and bird twittering – as well as the odd duck quack and goose honk – was loud when the car was exited.
In the shop/entrance area – I saw ‘Everyone Poops’ flash cards, Prickly Pile Up game sets, Bug Bingo, Poo Bingo, Dino skeleton excavation kits, and lots of soft toys; Mum wanted to do the hedgehog trail – and outside again, began (as instructed by the piece of paper) began looking for letters. I saw a plant labeled as an oesteospernem (meaning African daisy), a man with a massive camera lens, a propeller plane flew over, and kids in bobbly hats appeared and ran around, and a mother said to another mother ‘a puzzle outside in nature, what more could these children need?’; and a robin was doing loud twittering in a tree.
The trail was completed by us at 11.40am, and kids remained audible, geese were audible as well, Mum got excited about muddy puddles, a tiny little boy (with family) was wearing a big black waterproof that looked like a cape; we went up a path that was no longer a path, were told by a father and son coming the other way that it was completely flooded up ahead, so we did a u-turn, and a man in big wellies with a massive camera lens seemed to be going forth anyway.
We took a right turn, a couple of ducks and a big heron were making no noises whatsoever on a pond, and 2 geese on the bank looked like they were good friends; Mum peered at a wooden bench (there in memorial of someone), and something else I forgot; and then said she wanted coffee and to do the word search on the back of the hedgehog trail sheet.
Once seated at a table she did it it in under 2 minutes, a thin layer of ice was visible on a tiny pond/big puddle outside, the men with massive camera lenses seen earlier briefly sat down, and we quietly discussed mens hobbies (such as golf and photography). 4 boys were at another table, Mum signed the trail piece of paper (with a note to explain why she did it) before returning the pencil, and told me – due to a picture spotted in the entrance area – David Attenborough would be 100 in April (and I nearly wrote apricot)(due to her being childish and saying something that was forgotten by both of us).
The car was returned to, and the little village of Wolston had a lot of unpleasant potholes, a phone box that had been turned into a library, and I forgot if I saw anything else there; ‘DANGEROUS TRENCHES’ signs were on Speedway Lane, and in Wolston we parked: what may’ve been a stream before all the recent rain looked more like a river, we went along a little path, and in the graveyard of St. Margarets church were a lot of Lickorish’s, and a man also strolling round told us the Lickorish’s were still in the village, the church was built in the 1100s, the Normans invaded England and brought a flat pack castle with them, and some more stuff I forgot. A grave from 1711 was in the graveyard; the spinney was left following a little beige dog on a lead, I heard a train, crocuses and daffodils were everywhere, a cross-legged stone Buddha was by someone’s front door, and my fingers were going numb when the car was returned to.
The ginormous concrete HS2 bridge looked almost complete; an Alfie’s Dog Grooming car was by a house; and home just before 2pm, the sun was making it feel warm (and the Met Office thought it was 5°C). A little bit of very late lunch was consumed, yapping started next door (as the next door neighbour has a couple of Dachsunds that enjoy making loud noises), Google Maps thought we’d been driving for 3 hours and 41 minutes and gone 10 miles, and Mum poked her tablet and found out the origins of the name Lickorish (begining in 13th century England).
