Milverton Idyll

The village of Milverton, in Somerset, on the border of Devon, feels like a home place to us. Pauline, intrepid soul, knew of us through a number of common Sierra pack trip friends, though we had never met. She invited us to stay sight unseen back in 1992, and has never been rid of us since.

Her peaceful house and wonderful garden are where we have the rest and relaxation parts of our vacations to Europe. Pauline has no TV, only classical music and weather on the radio, and it is so very sweet to just be still. The entertainment is quiet conversation, a walk to the village

shop, or helping prepare the spinach bed. She takes good care of us with an absolute minimum of fuss. It is the kind of place where the milk still comes in bottles, the apples come from the backyard, and one might know the name of the hen that laid the morning egg.

We reminisce about the Sierras and

how good it was to go riding over the mountains before the lawyers got to it, and discuss the places we have seen and want to see in England. Pauline translates "biro", "Ford Prefect", "council house", "concessions", "hoover", "O-levels" and much more. We help her with rock music crossword clues. We watch birds.

The village has a lovely old church, one shop, one pub, 4 streets and maybe a dozen connecting lanes and paths. There are many gardens of note, many ancient red stone walls, and a lot of artists and craft people. It looks very much like St. Mary Mead looks

like in my mind.