Elkesley

Window at Elkesley Manor Farm

Elkesley is a strange village. It sits right next to the A1 which is a major arterial road, connecting north and south. I have driven by it many times but I visited it for the first time on Thursday - the day I set the pigs free.

Once Elkesley must have been a pleasant, prosperous place - situated as it was on the main coaching route between Lincoln and Sheffield. Then gradually the modern world took over, stagecoaches were consigned to history and the amount of traffic on the A1 increased exponentially.

St Giles Church, Elkesley - with Clint on the far right

Though it's by the A1, it is a tricky place to access. I arrived at ten in the morning and parked Clint by the wall of St Giles's Church. What I noticed immediately was the noise that filled the air. Not twittering birds but roaring traffic thundering by on The Great North Road. It was unceasing. Huge lorries, white vans, fast cars, slow cars, motorbikes - their engines, tyres and exhausts forming a symphony of unholy muzak.

I walked away from Elkesley through the woods and across The River Poulter then along the path that leads to Bothamsall. However, before I got there I turned westward along a disused country track called West Drayton Avenue. Admittedly, I ignored the "No Public Access" and "Private" signs.

Onward, past an oil well to the Clumber Park estate, turning north to the estate village of Hardwick. Here the wooden walkway over the River Poulter was broken so I had to to splash across the cobbled ford. Looking back, I saw a cyclist following in my wake. He noticed that I had snapped a picture of him and as he rode slowly by me he said he was relieved that he hadn't fallen off. We laughed.

With all the cycle tracks, I became slightly lost in the woods east of Hardwick and missed my intended path. This caused me to wander into the farmland south of Apley Head  Farm and that's where I came across the piggery. Last night, I carefully cut out an image of one of the pigs and stuck it on some white card. It seems to remind me of someone but for the life of me I don't know who:-

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Dido’s Lament

 Thank you to Sheffield John who gave me the heads up Queen Lennox is back

Haunting, and incredibly moving

from Going Gently https://ift.tt/2Vcuwts

Swallows and Hangovers

 

I met my friend for dinner last night and both of us are suffering from a gin based hangover from hell this morning. 

I took the girls up the Gop to blow away the cobwebs and burped pink gin at almost every step.

Lovely. 

Looking down on the village, it is easy to see the older houses of Trelawnyd. 

As in many Welsh villages the older houses have names rather than house numbers to tell them apart and these names are officially linked to the house postcode so cannot easily be changed.

My cottage is called Bwthyn y Llan which literally means Church Cottage.

The more historic name for it and it’s sister cottage next door was Tan y Fynwent which literally means under the graveyard.

I always liked the name Mrs Miniver gave to her home. 

It was simply called Starlings, and with that in mind I have just hung some cheerful blue birds on the front of the cottage

Hey ho

from Going Gently https://ift.tt/2KCmpnY