Somerton at Dawn. A Chance to Take Stock and Appreciate Simple Pleasures.

So here I am, at an important moment. The school year has come to a close, and more significantly, the threshold of turning fifty has been crossed. My task for this summer break is clear. Can I demonstrate an improved ability to relax and enjoy making the most of it, without anxieties creeping in? The Wandering Worrier was conceived to connect self learning to something I know and have always felt drawn to. Over the past eight months or so, I have managed to build a sense of worth that can be attached to gently exploring the world around me. Taking that chance to slow down, observe, and reflect. Not feeling rushed to write too often, or stressed by timescales. The effect has been to take that pressure off and only write if it feels right.

What better way to start the day than by putting the dog on the lead and having a stroll around my hometown before the rest of the world pops the kettle on and brushes its teeth? Stepping out early this morning and letting my feet lead the way has found me in a pensive yet settled state. There is always pleasure to be derived from being the only person about. Stealing the scene for oneself before daily life kicks in. The dog appeared more than happy that the stifling heat of the previous couple of weeks had abated, with a freshness to the air that felt cool against the skin but still only required a t-shirt. The morning dog walk before work, come rain or shine, is something that always helps to focus the mind on the day ahead. It gets the cogs ticking and throws in a few steps before any screen time or problem-solving takes precedence. However, with today being the first day of respite, I can shift my thoughts elsewhere.

In the rhythm of work, particularly in education, it’s easy to let routines dictate our days. The cycle can sometimes put us on autopilot, moving us toward the next milestone. One challenge of working in this field is how institutionalised it can feel; we often function solely through the lens of term dates. While it’s true that we enjoy more holidays than many in other professions, there’s a sense of being directed about when those breaks occur. This can lead to a perpetual countdown to the next escape. I don’t say this to complain; I genuinely value the rewarding career I’ve had as a teacher and school leader. Yet, I often find myself yearning for more balance, a sense of steadiness amidst the peaks and troughs of the school year. Interestingly, while the start of a holiday brings relief, it can also present an emotional challenge, resembling the mixed feelings one may experience after crossing the finish line of a gruelling race. Elation mingled with a sudden void and the gnawing question of, “What do I do now?”

In times past, the overthinker in me would conjure up a whole list of jobs, experiences, meet-ups, challenges, and general things to do. Ultimately, these would never be completed because they would require six months to achieve, instead of six weeks. This resulted in me worrying about using the time constructively and purposefully, but never reaching a point of satisfaction about how I’d used the time afforded to me. Essentially, I have been guilty of creating a self-perpetuating vicious circle of expectations that consistently leads to a sense of disappointment or perceived missed opportunities.

‘Have a word with yourself and chill out.’ That’s what I’d be saying if a friend came to me with this conundrum. The truth is that I’ve never been able to look inwardly enough to tell myself that, and even if I have, I’ve not listened. That growing willingness to challenge myself and the way I function has only recently been productive in sinking in. Therefore, with the opportunity to put this right in front of me, today’s wander feels like a watershed moment.

Somerton is a handsome town that sits proudly on a low plateau above the rather discreet River Cary. Offering its name to the county, as well as proclaiming to be the once ancient capital of Wessex, there is a sense of history and heritage here that makes it a pleasure to both visit and live. Walking up from Lower Somerton, the predominantly Blue Lias buildings are not just well preserved, but allow that sense of ‘Old England’ to pervade the scene.

It sounds like a cliche, but Somerton is a bit of a ‘Hidden Gem.’ Whilst places like Bruton, Frome and Bath have caught the attention of those looking for a slice of Somerset life, this gentrification has often resulted in the creation of a slightly too polished example of what the county has to offer. Sometimes, in trying too hard to replicate authenticity, you can inadvertently end up with something that misses the target altogether. The real beauty and draw of Somerset, which Somerton demonstrates, is that the most engaging and natural places remain a little rough around the edges. Their sense of character, therefore, feels effortless. There is a strong community here that, whilst welcoming, also manages to maintain its sense of tradition and past. The A303 lies a mere five minutes down the road, and as I type, thousands will be ploughing on by to fill up Devon and Cornwall. In bypassing the attraction and beauty that this part of Somerset has to offer, they are missing a trick. Selfishly, I honestly don’t mind.

Navigating our way around St Michael’s church and into the market square, with its octagonal Buttercross, we are afforded a moment to stand and watch without distraction. Our only other companion is an attentive pigeon, perched atop the war memorial. The mournful soldier is a permanent guardian to this central point of the old town, bringing both a sense of peace and perspective to the scene. It really is rather special.

As the road leads out in the direction of Long Sutton, I take a glance in the window of the Etsome Arms. This Micro Pub has become a firm fixture of mine over the past few years. Eight new craft and real cask ales take centre stage between Thursday and Sunday, with ‘Pete’s Pick of the Week’ being eagerly awaited by those who regularly frequent this charming temple of beer. This may well be an unashamed plug, but it raises a smile and a note to self that drinking on a school night will be on the cards later on today.

As with many market towns, the countryside encircles Somerton in all directions. This helps to ensure that getting into the fields and tracks is never too hard to achieve. Walking up and away from the line of shops, it is not long until the dog can feel the freedom of being off the lead and able to run. I say run. In reality, it simply offers her a more focused opportunity to sniff before realising I’ve wandered too far away for comfort, leading to a panicked gallop to catch up. French Bulldogs do have a reputation for being lazy fiends that snore and produce amusing memes. Whereas, I don’t doubt that this is all true, mine loves a good walk and is an eager companion. Her presence also ensures that I don’t look like a weirdo who has gone for a walk on his own at an ungodly hour.

With August knocking on the door, the initial signs of the changing season are abundant. The wild flowers are now past their best, and the parched grass looks weary from a few months of unrelenting dry and often hot weather. The conkers are looking ripe, and the elders have replaced their flowers with berries. It isn’t blackberry picking time quite yet, but thoughts of crumble and custard spring fervently to mind as we make our way along the hedgerows. It wouldn’t be Somerset without passing an apple orchard whilst strolling. The bows are now hanging heavy with fruit, and I have been reliably informed by a local producer that this year’s heat will convert into stronger cider. God helps us, it’s strong enough already!

As this dawn wander comes to a close, the dog makes a beeline for the mill stream that flows inconspicuously under the road and feeds the Cary. The trickle further signals the need for some more rain to swell its banks, but it permits a cooling paddle for my four-legged friend.

Today, choosing to get up and go out was the best decision I could have made. This peaceful walk was a soothing start to the school break, providing me with the opportunity to lift my gaze, take in my surroundings, and truly appreciate the town I call home. There was no urgency or pressure to accomplish anything. Just the simple joy of enjoying nature and feeling grateful for the little things. I decided not to make plans or set goals; instead, I promised myself to go with the flow. This felt like a small victory and a hopeful first step towards a break that might be different from those in the past. After a busy and fulfilling term, it’s comforting to know that there are more moments of wandering and contemplation ahead. Here’s to finding joy in the simple pleasures. Happy days.