Walking in Bradenham Woods, I saw a huge wasp – a hornet. It was hovering about near the base of two tree-trunks, which had holes in. The one thing I know about hornets’ nests is not to stir them up. 
I’d come to look for Grim’s Ditch, but all I saw was footpaths just like any others amongst the Chiltern Beeches. The only difference was the fit-looking joggers, all in khaki T-shirts. And the Royal Air Force officers with gold braid and lots of stripes, on the road. One looked at me curiously, before exchanging relaxed salutes with a warrant officer. At the gate was a rather attractive female sentry, holding her gun at the ready. A sign said, “Cyclists must dismount and show ID.” But she let through all the cyclists, in their blue-grey RAF uniforms, as they pedalled in without stopping, waving their passes in the air. She was talking to an RAF policeman at the same time, who was giving her instruction I think. But seeing me from the corner of her eye, she stiffened. I was a potential stirrer of the hornet’s nest. She brandished her gun as if she was ready to do business with it, whilst I loped past. I didn’t look like a suicide bomber, but then, what self-respecting terrorist would?
RAF High Wycombe is the headquarters of Strike Command, one of the nerve-centres of UK forces. I researched it a while ago as a footnote to my book*, which chronicles the life of a country boy from rural Jamaica whose experience of military service had terminated after insubordination to a corporal. Forty years later he became Mayor of High Wycombe and dined as an honoured guest in the Officer’s Mess, which I passed today, and enjoyed equal status with an Air Vice Marshal, a situation which he recalled with great relish.
There were 7 comments
Jim
So you are already a pro writer huh? I would not be surprised. I think I was much like you before my spiritual experience, intellect and matter was all there was, except for forces and some of them undiscovered, but all of them neutral as regards ‘life’. I was very much an atheist, but then one day…That changed even tho I had no background for the experience and change, none at all.
Vincent
Thanks Jim. I have never thought intellect and matter are all there is. What happened was that I decluttered myself of the spiritual ideas that I’d been conditioned to think were necessary to contain the spiritual. Have you written about that “one day”? What happened? It would be interesting to read. I’m not exactly a professional writer, though. Got commissioned to do a biography, that’s all. “Pro” implies doing it for a living. The temptation to write my own story remains. It would be amateur, not pro!
Nila-kantha-chandra
Hi, I think you might like to visit https://guruphiliac.blogspot.com/
Michael Peverett
I think your fungus is Laetiporus sulphureus. It is a heart-rot fungus and the visible part makes its appearance at the beginning of summer. Good to eat – only when young and cooked – , hence also known as “Chicken of the Woods”. But you’d best not rely on my identification! I’ve been meaning to recommend to you a book published earlier this year that I ran across in my local bookshop, “The Cloudspotter’s Guide” by Gavin Pretor-Pinney. Though I wasn’t crazy about the jokey style at first, I have to admit it’s completely changed the way I look at the sky, because it’s just brilliant at explaining masses of things about clouds that I never could understand when I tried to read other books about the weather, which I found extremely dull. I think you’re right about blogs, too.
Vincent
But Rama, I am a guruphobe! I see that your Guruphiliac exposes the “black sheep” amongst gurus, but enough! I am not sure if there are any white ones to defend from the black ones. Sorry. I accept gurus may be part of India’s gift to the world, but once bitten, twice shy.
Vincent
Michael, Karleen’s dead against my bringing even the nourishing ordinary mushroom or puffball home. in Jamaica nobody eats mushrooms except perhaps in a Chinese restaurant. but I think you are right about the identity of the tree fungus. As for clouds, they continue to amaze and fascinate me. I try to internalise their forms with a view to learning to paint them, but it would be a life’s work and I can’t even work out what medium would allow me to paint or draw them. Blake was good at them though.
a wayfarer’s notes 