Walk

 

Today, unbroken sunshine was promised from dawn to dusk. It was time for another country walk. I chose the flatlands north of Doncaster and parked Clint near Hatfield and Staniforth  railway station. Above, a pizza business, a barber's and a fish and chip shop on Broadway in Dunscroft.

Below, Lock House Farm north of Barnby Dun. You can see the farm through the trees.

Below is the track to Botany Bay. In the late eighteenth century and throughout the nineteenth century a fashion arose in rural England for naming properties after exotic far away places. It was not a widespread habit but nonetheless it remains noticeable. I have walked by farms called California, New York, Gibraltar, North America and Crimea and I am sure that if I turned my mind to it I could identify many more such lonesome properties with names that similarly look beyond the reality of the here and now...

Now I have arrived at Kirk Bramwith. Its lovely little limestone church with its unmistakable Norman door was certainly operational during The Black Death. In these flatlands there is no stone. You see hedges rather than stone walls for field boundaries but somehow the people of long ago managed to transport tons of magnesian limestone to this remote village. It beggars belief.

As I was walking to Barnby Dun's even more impressive church - dedicated to St Peter and St Paul, I turned to observe the stubbled field I was crossing and was immediately wowed by the sun's dramatic  illumination...

I got back to Clint at three thirty having walked pretty solidly for four hours - covering eight or nine miles.

"Did you enjoy that then?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm as I tossed my boots into his boot (American: trunk).

"Yes I jolly well did!" I retorted, sounding rather like David Niven at a cocktail party in The Hollywood Hills.

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And Just Like That ep 7

Carrie is dating again 

Just like in the old days

She looked lovely

Even when she puked

But I was a bit shocked at the Miranda’s  “ finger me “ moment 

The series is back on form

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Crockery

 

I spent the morning measuring the living room, stairs, landing and bedrooms. 

I’ve picked the carpet which will replace the existing one and the ancient bare floorboards in my bedroom will, at last be covered too , silencing the occasional middle-of-night tap dancing by the dogs. 

I know I will get a few lectures about how carpets are not very practical with dogs and a cat in the house, but I don’t really care. 

I like carpets.

I ordered a new washing machine on line then I’ve photographed the field as only today, I’ve finally decided not to renew the yearly lease and I want to prove to the land agents that it’s been left in good order.

End of an era I guess.

This afternoon, I finally tackled the living room cupboards and removed an old mismatched dinner service bought as a job lot at an auction many years ago. 

I’ve never really liked it and only kept it out of apathy

It’s of no quality and is well out of style so in a fit of devilment I spent a therapeutic twenty minutes smashing it to bits in the bin.

Mrs Trellis stopped just as I smashed an old tureen without it’s handle and Blue stood on his hind legs to look inside the wheelie bin at the bits.

“ Looks like fun” she commented, her eyes twinkling 

I offered her a soup bowl to throw but she declined it.

She was wearing her overly erect bobble hat

This afternoon , I cleaned the soot out of the cupboards and refilled them with books and jugs, cups and glasses. 

Very satisfying

 

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Questions

 What is making you smile?

What are you reading?

What are you ordering?

What’s for breakfast?

Favorite sweet or salty treat?

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