A Thought

What day is it?

Who knows 

This video really pleased me 

It really pleased me

 Why do you think that is so?

Answers on a postcard

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smile

 body 

mind

not there yet

what is bringing

a smile today

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A Pig In A Condom

 

I got up and walked the dogs at 8am.

It was grey and humourless outside so we went back to bed until 1 am

Then I walked the dogs for their long walk and fed them and we returned to bed again

I didn’t say it was going to be an interesting post. 

I was just dozing off when my work what’s app group pinged .

Apparently the Welsh Government has given a 500£ One off Thank You payment to care home workers for their battle against covid but workers in hospices were exempt from this gesture of goodwill  

The hospice management team thought this unfair and today matched that thank you for all front line staff

A nice and timely thought 

If anyone reading this think that this payment is not deserved they could have seen an overly sweaty me being pulled out of a plastic PPE overall by two support workers after a twelve hour shift

I looked like a melting pig in a condom 

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Twelve

Road junction west of Blyton

Twelve miles. That's how far I walked yesterday, east of The River Trent in Lincolnshire.

I left Clint in the car park of the village hall in Blyton - which is undoubtedly the origin of the surname Blyton as in Enid Blyton - one of Britain's best known children's writers.

It was a beautiful day as I set off - hardly a cloud in the sky - and for mid-December the temperature was pretty mild. No need for the big coat,  gloves or a woolly hat.

I was heading north west for the tiny riverside village of Wildsworth. Across from Wildsworth is another small village called Gunthorpe which is where my wife was born and spent the first sixteen years of her life. Her father, Charlie, was an arable farmer there and was also born in Gunthorpe. Sadly now there are no living family connections to the place - just memories.

View of the Andersons' house in Gunthorpe - Holme Farm

Three and a half miles by the river down to East Stockwith. There I sat on a bench and looked across to West Stockwith as I ate my banana and apple and swigged some water. It's funny that these riverside communities can be so close to each other and yet so far apart. There may have been little rowboat ferries in the past but there are none today.

Looking to West Stockwith from East Stockwith

A long, straight road led me eastwards - away from the river and back in the direction of Blyton as the sun was sinking prettily over Retford and Gainsborough.

I nipped into Blyton's village shop and treated myself to a "Snickers" bar after renewing my "Lotto" ticket. Just think - if I won the jackpot I would not have to walk anywhere again. I could pay people to do the walking for me and Clint would be traded in for a banana-coloured Lamborghini called Gina Lollobrigida. What merry japes Gina and I would have.

I saw a saw in East Stockwith

St Martin's Church, Blyton is Grade I listed

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