Green Assault in Hampshire

I was violently assaulted.

Doomscroll any feed today featuring the UK and you’ll think it’s cold, grey, decaying, industrial hell hole engaged in a bitter culture war. I came armed with knowledge of dark arts and how to detect dark forces. I learned the language and I watched my back from the moment I stepped off the plane. But when I walked across the fields one sunny June day, none of that protected me from the violent assault of green. Warm and cool greens. Yellow, blue and red greens. Dark and light, deep and bright. To the native inhabitants summer green is the norm. But coming from Australia, I am always struck violently by the variety and intensity of green.

And yet on that June day a suffusion of pink seeded grasses also covered the green Hampshire fields. A harmony of pink and green beneath a soft, blue sky. I was also assaulted by blackberries, holly and nettles that grew in abundance over the rights of way walking paths across farms and over styles as I walked to Empshott Green. I had walked there once before in February, on our first visit to L’Abri (Greatham) in 1992. My wife Heather and I walked to Empshott Green under grey skies and misty rain. The ground was a dreary brown of decaying leaves and dead grass, but occasionally blue bells were emerging from winter hibernation.

Returning by walking country lanes I met a family having tea in their country garden in the little hamlet of Hawkley. When I asked for directions back to Greatham they kindly invited me to join them for afternoon tea, gave me a refreshing drink, cake and biscuits to take with me. It was wonderful reminder that we should never confuse the media’s portrayal of any country or it’s people with reality. For the UK is still mostly very green and it’s people mostly very kind and pleasant.