Refreshed

Ah, yesterday I got the kind of restorative trip out of town that I've been wanting. Took my bike on a train about an hour and a half southwest of the city and spent the day in the New Forest. Though much of it is forested, it's anything but new: a tract of land set aside a thousand years ago by William the Conqueror. Now a national park, there are small towns scattered throughout it, as well as crushed gravel bike trails and footpaths. Covered with forests of pine, oak, and fern as well as open moors, it's the kind of place that welcomes a switch from the fluorescent green biking jacket to a brown wool sweater, when you're off the paved roads anyway. Wild ponies are a regular sight, as well as free-ranging pigs and horses of the domesticated kind. I spied a couple of deer, too.

I biked from Brockenhurst to Lyndhurst in a meandering loop of 20 miles or so before whiling away the last hour at a pub as I waited for the train back to London. A lovely day that did my soul good.

Lyndhurst seems to be the main hub of the area. It's a lovely if highly commercialized little town with a charming hilltop church. It has its quirks, too. Here you can arrange for a remarkable variety of coveyances to transport your loved one to their final resting place. There are the traditional horse-drawn carriages in black, of course. Or perhaps you'd prefer the all-Volkswagen cortege, consisting of the VW van hearse and stretch Beetles for the family. There are Land Rover hearses for the dearly departed who loved that rugged off-road experience. And, my favorite, how about a stylish motorcycle sendoff? Your choice of a Triumph, Suzuki, or Harley with a sleek hearse sidecar. I was finishing reading that book on eccentric Britain yesterday between legs of the trip, so somehow this just seemed a normal part of things.