What I’d like to do on my 3 days off
What I’m actually going to do on my days off
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Galloways
After ordering a replacement valve for our dripping kitchen tap, I noticed that Sheffield's skies were brightening. The weather prophets had obviously got it wrong.
Very soon I was in Clint's cockpit and heading out of the city. The plan was to have a short walk in that glorious December light and perhaps bag a few photographs too.
Soon I was at the rock climbers' car park at Hook's Car under Stanage Edge. But this time I was heading for a less-visited rocky feature called Carrhead Rocks - across dead bracken and dormant heather. Lord knows why I had not been there before.
Peepo!
As I moved over the rocks I noticed three black and white beasts grazing in the rough moorland below me. They belong to a hardy breed of cattle known as Belted Galloways. When I looped back below Carrhead Rocks, they were hoofing it up to the higher level that I had just walked along.
The light was lovely and I took twenty four pictures of the cattle - five of which I am pleased to share with you in this blogpost. Magnificent creatures that are almost always peaceable but I guess we all have our angry moments, don't we?
"Yes we do!" yelled Clint who was reading my thoughts as I untied my bootlaces. "Now let's go home Roald Amundsen!"
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Chilled
Cold bones
Warm heart
The chill
runs up
My spine
down to
The toes
Dreaming
Of a sauna
or Turkish bath
What are you
dreaming of
today?
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Anger
I deal with grief most days
And I see how much anger often smokescreens it
It feeds grief and effectively insulates it.
I know the story.
I’ve lived it .
Covid with its rules, has compounded anger
Anger in isolation, anger in blame
Anger in the pure unfairness of it all
And grief, in many cases has been halted and denied its natural way to go
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Heroes
One of the cruellest conditions that any human being can face is Motor Neurone Disease. It's the very opposite of winning millions on The National Lottery. Famously, it blighted the life of genius physicist Stephen Hawking who, by the way, was very familiar with the Van der Graaf generator.
Here in the north of England, rugby league is one of our favourite sports. It's hardly played Down South at all. Traditionally, it has been played by tough working class men from hardworking families. In recent decades one of the elite clubs has been Leeds RLFC and two of that club's finest former players are Kevin Sinfield and Rob Burrow.
Both played for England and Great Britain and remain the best of friends. Kevin is now forty and Rob is thirty eight. However, twelve months ago it was revealed to the public that Rob was suffering from MND. He is now pretty much wheelchair bound and requires computerised voice simulation assistance to communicate.
Rob Burrow, a burrowing scrum half, always wore the number 7 on his back. Kevin Sinfield was a natural leader and usually played at loose forward. You can perhaps imagine how deeply Rob's worsening condition has affected Kevin Sinfield. What could he do to express his solidarity with and his fraternal love for his old teammate?
He decided to run seven marathons in seven days and as I write this blogpost he is running the seventh - through the streets of Leeds. He is raising money for the MND Association. His target was £77,777 but it has been hugely surpassed and as I write over one million pounds has been pledged. It's a hell of an achievement by a player who is still known in rugby league circles as "Sir Kev".
I'm sure he wishes that the money would save Rob Burrow's rapidly declining life. It won't do that but it will help to fund further research into an especially cruel disease that quickly reduces sufferers to prisoners trapped in their own increasingly useless bodies. To donate, go here.
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