On Little Solsbury Hill

After a day slaving over a hot computer terminal with the solitary highlight of a telephone call to 'M' (isn't she the head of the secret service and Bond's, James Bond's boss?) I felt like a walk.

A proper walk. I'd already yomped into the city centre and back earlier that morning; the traffic fumes on the London Road were not as bad as they can be because it's half term but I fancied a change of air and a walk up the hill - Little Solsbury Hill.

It's only 35 minutes to the top of the hill from where I live and the reward of an ever changing vision of timeless Bath set in a landscape of trilling skylarks and skylarking buzzards.

Many moons ago I wrote a haiku, now lost, expressing my disappointment that the eagle orbiting high over [Little] Solsbury Hill as promised in 1977 by Peter Gabriel had not appeared the first time I climbed to the top of the eponymous prominence.

Today I was rewarded. An omen that perhaps things, as am I, are looking up.




Ok, so it wasn't actually an eagle. It was definitely some sort of small raptor but then - it's a relatively small hill.