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R J Askew

Bio: I'm chomping a plate of sweetcorn and mackerel, strewn with black olives. It's a superbly sunny Monday in Feb. I have to get out. There's a 10 mile walk from my house in St. Albans I do. I cut through a few fields and down a couple of bridal ways to a Redborne, a village clustered around what was once a trackway of the ancient Britons. The Romans paved it and it came to be known as Watling Street, linking what are now Kent and Shropshire. I always imagine Roman carts trundling alongside me near me and Roman sqaddies keeping a wary eye out for hostile Britons. There's an excellent cafe in Redborne called The Hub which I will visit. I will sit there sipping an excellent mocha, while trying to hide my usually muddy feet. I will be read. This afternoon it will be Jeanette Winterson's wonderful THE PASSION, which will take me to Venice, circa 1812. The walk back will take me along the course of the River Ver, a gentle chalk stream fished by cloud-backed herons with golden eyes. I will have been walking for about three hours. Partridges will rocket up from the furrows ahead of me. If I am very lucky I may have an idea on what to write next. On the other hand I will probably just return home hungry. You know how it is. Words must not be rushed. *bows*

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