What is a sign?
Well a quick perusal within the Oxford English Dictionary one would find....
- [An] object, quality, or event whose presence or occurrence indicates the probable presence or occurrence of something else
- [To] write one's name on (a letter, card, document, etc.) to identify oneself as the writer or sender.
- [A] notice on public display that gives information or instructions in a written or symbolic form.
Well there you go then. A sign is many things, yet each individual sign is grappling with a specific aspect of the maelstrom of daily life. I came across two signs today. Small signs, lost in the landscape within which they sat. One permanent, representing a temporary moment in the landscape, one temporary but providing a permanent reminder of an event.
Up on Moccas Hill NNR near Dorstone in Herefordshire is a nice walk. From the car park, an easy bumble up the track affords the most stunning views from a hogs-back of a ridge, north over to Shropshire and I have been told the Cotswolds to the east. To the south the great dark lummox of the Black Mountains towering over the Golden Valley like an eagle quartering it's next victim. Rain falls on these Welsh hills in frequent fast moving bands but never seems to reach the English valley. And for that I was grateful. I stood looking at a sign "For - Forrest Emrys Lloyd Segal - for a lifetime of growth". The sign had been placed on a sturdy tree guard. The winds whip cruel up here. Who was this Emrys Lloyd Segal? Was he really called Forrest? At some point in the none-too-distant past a sapling had been planted in his memory and entombed in the tree guard safe from marauding deer. My mind wandered as the wind billowed clouds around me like confetti. Presumably he knew this landscape. A local man perhaps. A local man who grew to love the permanence of this landscape (today in its December malevolent mood) sandwiched along the English & Welsh border. In death (for I am presuming the word For signified that this is a memorial tree) his temporary footfall on the land ended, but his memory like the sign, will become a permanent feature as his tree grows to maturity over the next half millennium. I'd like to know more of Forrest Emrys Lloyd Segal, but I never will I suppose, but already I like him, for his lifetime of growth principles. My temporary passing of this sign, will just be that, temporary.
Later today a temporary sign welcomed us to table 5 in the 17th Century Pandy Inn in Dorstone. Table reserved, we arrived eager to sample the delights of this newly Crowned 'Best Community Pub in Hereford'. Or as I said to the landlady, best pub in Dorstone at least. Narrowly avoiding being barred permanently from this oldest (built 1185) pub in Herefordshire, I scuttled off to the table. 'Reserved Miranda'. The Miranda in question is now termed a local and had booked the table for us. She and husband Graeme moved to Herefordshire a few years back following running a successful gardening business in France. It is how Miranda and I met, through the internet of blogging. For she wrote eloquently on the joys of Continental gardening, and I careered through my wildlife blog with my customary abandoning of attention to detail. But it was not until 2016 that Miranda and I finally met face to face.
There are only three glasses there, as Julie's soda and lime failed to turn up for the photoshoot. It was a good night, food excellent, atmosphere perfect, in a pub in the middle of nowhere packed to the gunnels with locals. That sign unlike the one for Emrys Lloyd Segal will have been wiped clean soon after we left, in readiness for the next customer. A temporary sign of an event which passed in one evening. But a sign which fermented the bonds of conversation and friendship which will hopefully remain as permanent as a friendship can be. Yet the four of us at the convivial table were temporary visitors to the Pandy Inn.
I just wonder, was this Emrys Lloyd Segals local?
No comments:
Post a Comment