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Scenario: Run to the hills!!
RUN TO THE HILLS! (approx 12 months after TSHTF). It was Mid summers morning, Jane stood in the pre-dawn light, looking East, she was waiting for the sun to rise over the Tower on Glastonbury Tor. Jane had always been an early riser due to Farming in her youth and now found no need for a watch to mark off the day. Pre-dawn was the best time to check the traps and she thanked The Goddess for this mornings catch of 2 rabbits. Saluting the blaze of sunrise she turned and headed west across the old Travellers campsite she and her husband Paul had taken over that Spring. The Alternative Community had long since left the area saying"Run to the Hills!". Glastonbury was always one of the seven islands, Somerset was only ever for The Summer People. Using the 3-9x40 scope on her Crossman Ratcatcher air rifle,Jane checked the flourescent ribbons they had tied at metre heights on the Pylon near the Pyramid Stage in the centre of the long abandoned Pilton Festival site, 90 metres below her, the water shimmered in the early morning sun-no longer just water but an evil mix of sewage and waste. "Paul, its time to leave, in the last few days the water has gone up nearly another metre, we will have to get out before the Autumn Equinox, the high tides and the winter gales-that gives us 4 weeks at the most, and now we have to go by the back door, our high ground route". The whole of Somerset was gradually being cut off from the rest of Britain now the pumping stations were no longer working, only those farmers who had kept the antique flood Punts of older generations in usable condition were able to move around The Levels. If the winter gales breached the flood barriers on the Rivers Parrett and Tone that would be the end of Somerset. Jane and Paul had always planned to return to their Devon homeland, knowing full well that the far West would become a series of independent islands. Over the years they had decided the first Winter would be spent in the Blackdown hills at Yarcombe, Jane's parents had fled there with their 3 small children in the early 1950's, fearing the then "Cold War", their cottage had its own well and solid fuel range.Jane had made friends with the present owners 10 years ago and they found her survival ideas quaint. However they were more than happy to let her and her husband store their cache in the oubuilding which still housed the 17century copper and 3 seater privvy, an isolated remote cottage down an extremely narrow lane, most people would take to be a farm track. Luckily the next few days dry,and so were spent preparing,packing and checking all their gear.Paul had traded his beloved motorbike,and trailer,that summer with the last of the Irish Gypsies leaving the area, they had thought it highly amusing that someone would want a horse buggy when they didnt have a horse!.The thing was Jane and Paul DID have one. "Dobbin" was a small but heavy cob, he had been left behind by Weekenders who never returned from London once TSHTF, he had taken very well to the tiny lightweight aluminium buggy, and was quite capable of pulling both adults. Which was just as well,because Jane and Paul were "Elders", most groups just could not be bothered with people they thought slowed them down, ignorant or uninterested in their years of knowledge. They had also liberated "Eeyore",the donkey, from Glastonbury's Rural Life barn, he was their pack animal. Apart from the rising waters, the main problems anywhere was crossing main roads, The A roads and Motorways were ruled by Road Warriors,"Mad Max"type gangs who shot on sight and were rumoured to eat their victims as well as their animals. Past scrutiny of maps had shown there were 2 cattle passes under the A303, Jane and Paul planned to use one of these 2 nights after the next full moon. Sticking to the high ground they would work their way Southwards using a route of green lanes, bridleways and the old drove roads. The hippie movement in the 1960's followed by New Age travellers and the Alternative Community had kept these ways open, campsites established over the years where there were wells or springs of fresh pure water, herb gardens and fruit bushes had been planted and were still there to be used. A communication system had been set up, based on old Romany and Tramp signs, small wooden discs carved with letters hung in known evergreen trees, X meant extreme danger and OK stood for itself. "If neither animal casts a shoe or goes lame,we should be able to make a good 10 miles a day, no need to overdo it, we can even take a day off for bad weather or just to rest up". The journey was around 100 miles,avoiding any large towns creeping south between Yeovil and Sherbourne, then West below the A30 round Crewkerne along the ancient high ridge road to Chard then a few more miles to the Devon border and Yarcombe. At long last Paul and Jane lead the tired animals up the hill out of the village to Beacon. The lane was fast becoming a mass of brambles "good blackberries come September", with just 4 weekend houses, they knew the lane would now be deserted. As Jane unhitched Dobbin and took the packs off valiant Eeyore, Paul lifted the lids on the privvy, drawing back the planks underneath he was delighted to find that no one had had any idea that this was the place he had chosen to hide their tinned food and tools. (Written by DragonJane, November 2011).
Some people that prefer to be alone arent anti-social they just have no time for drama, stupidity and false people.
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