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Ride Across Somerset levels

RIDE ACROSS SOMERSET LEVELS

I did not intend to go to Shepton Mallet on the Somerset Levels on March 3, but there was a memorial service there for a great friend. She was funny, so wise! I set off on the train, knowing that Castle Cary was the nearest stop to where I wanted to go. (I travel by public transport not so much because of ideology but because we sold the car (a Rover, old but with a silver heart) a couple of years ago and now I travel by train, which means I can look at stuff.
Here is a Castle Cary poem, from years ago . Written when I lived in Canada and borrowed the name for a house I lived in once, but subsequently lost.

CASTLE CAREY
Wrapping around like a coat
The house shrugs
As it holds its inhabitants
In embrace,
Like a tree
Casts shade and love
Together
For those who
Visit.
From this train on March 3rd I looked out at the flooded Somerset levels in early morning light, (I had left early in order to get to Shepton Mallet by noon). As we entered Somerset I could see mist and sun reflected and this looked so strange. We were crossing an area of water. The train was raised up on its tracks but all around there was water as far as you could see. A kind of sea with hills which had once been old cliffs.
Onwards across the levels:
After the memorial service was over, in order to get home, I had to walk back from the outskirts of Shepton Mallet, through fields and sunshine and not much of anything. At the Cenotaph in Shepton Mallet, I waited for the buses and caught a 661 to Wells. It seemed that the 29 no longer travelled across the levels to get to Taunton because of the flooding and now operated according to an amended timetable.
The 661 pulled into Wells and I saw the twin towers of the cathedral. Then while I was hanging about reading timetables, waiting for a 29, a bus for Street appeared, the 376 and as I knew it was going in the right direction I got on, as that was better than hanging about.
I go to Street and bought clothes and water, (a black sweater with big buttons and a soft cream sweater to remind me of the day.) Then as I wandered to the area that serves as a bus depot for Street, a bus appeared labelled ‘Taunton’. This was a place I knew. It was that kind of day, when things appear as needed. I got on it, asking how long would it take, but the driver was evasive saying she had to go via Bridgwater. I thought one bus was better than no bus and as I had a day explorer ticket I got on.