It's taken me eight years to get off the train and walk down this path. Eight years I've been staring at it from the train window. In winter, bare fields like today. In summer, full of luxuriant green stems waving in the breeze. In the Autumn, a golden vista. This field, this path, this view has helped me watch the changing seasons. Today, on the last day of my annual season ticket, the last opportunity for a free trip to this station, I decided to finally go on a minor adventure and reach the church I've seen for so long in the distance.
The path was muddy but it wasn't too long.
And the sky was beautiful.
At the other end it was really rather nice. Lots of houses that I would like to live in but can't afford to buy.
We wandered around the graveyard of the church I had admired from afar for so long. I do like a good graveyard. One headstone said "Here lies an honest man".
So that was the path through the field to Foxton. A very minor adventure perhaps but it felt good to set foot on a long admired path. I came home happy with numb toes and muddy boots.