It was mid-afternoon, the sun was out and Chris and I wanted to cycle over to the ford, sit on the little road bridge that spans the ford, and dip our feet in the cool water – that’s why I wore  thong sandals (flip flops in England but I’m an Aussie). But when we arrived – oh no! – someone was in our spot and it didn’t look like he had any intention of budging. He wore shorts, a tee-shirt and a hat, and was sat cross-legged like a Buddha (though he lacked the big stomach); his eyes were shut and his left hand rested on the border collie sat beside him. He seemed not to hear our arrival.

We parked our bikes and I took a couple of video clips of Chris ringing my new red and white spotted bicycle bell, which we had bought this morning, and of which I am very pleased (it’s very pretty and loud!). The sound of my new bell aroused the man sat in our spot and I noticed he looked our way, but only for a moment and then he closed his eyes again.

Just as we approached the water streaming across the road an old lady had come down the hill and rounded the corner; soon she stood at the end of the bridge. The sitting man made to stand up and make way for the lady.

“No, no,” she said, “don’t get up, there’s plenty of room for me to walk past you.”

They smiled at each other and I thought, “He can’t be a bad sort if he was prepared to move for the lady.” That thought made me bolder and I took off my thongs, looked at him and asked:

“Is that a sheep dog?”

He nodded and gave a half-smile.

“Mind if I sit by you on the bridge and dangle my feet in the water?”

He was a quiet man but was amiable enough and indicated his assent with a wave of his hand.

At first I sat at the end of the bridge and Chris, who had joined me, had to sit on a clump of grass a foot or two away from the bridge. The white haired lady stood and rested against the stone wall at the other end of the bridge.

“This is one of my favourite spots,” declared the old lady with a radiant smile.

“It’s ours too,” I spoke for us both and looked at the Buddha man.

He nodded and smiled benevolently.

“Is it a girl?” I asked as I patted his dog.

“Yes, her name is Shadow,” he replied.

For the next hour half or so the lady chatted to us about her life – where she lived, her age (eighty- seven), the parish church, some of the people she knew (and we knew), and the pleasure of walking in our beautiful countryside so close to our town. The man sat cross-legged on the bridge said very little – or perhaps he said nothing more at all – but he looked at the old lady kindly and nodded and smiled at us all. I moved closer to Shadow the border collie in order to pet her more easily and Chris moved closer to me so that he was almost on the bridge. The whole while my happy feet played in the delicious cool water.

“Well, I had better go on my way now,” said the lady.

“What’s your name?” I asked, standing up to shake her hand.

“Muriel,” she held my hand.

“I’m Sally,” I said.

“And I’m Chris,” Chris stood.

“I’m Adrian,” said the Buddha man holding out his hand to each of us in turn.

Muriel walked on and Chris and I collected our bikes. I sounded my new bell and Adrian looked over and waved. We soon caught up with Muriel. Of course, she heard us coming and made a comic bow as I passed by, my bright red bell ringing and Chris’s horn honking.