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I woke around 3.15 pm yesterday afternoon, which was far too early.

I heard the tinkle of water and for a moment lay in bed with Dorothy’s fat face smiling at me.

I rolled over and looked at the floor to see Roger merrily peeing inside one of my work shoes.

Beyond caring I rolled back over and slept until after 4 pm when I had to get up. 

I’m not an elastic band any more

We are all getting older 

That little nugget of philosophy seeped into my head soon after when I was chatting to a villager with a poorly spouse. Dorothy as usual was playing up as my friend was shedding a tear of worry and remained a pain when she actually snapped the chewed bit off her lead in sheer boredom when unfortunately poorly Meirion showed up so wanting to share his exciting news of a forthcoming  cholecystectomy. 

Some like Animal Helper Pat and Mrs Trellis have a sort of eternal youth about them, but as they pass the cottage, battling wind and rain and energetic dogs , some other are now looking their age and are slowing up or looking more bowed or grey.

Village Elder Islwyn still wears his yellow workman’s gear around the village but isn’t seen with his spade in hand as much as he was, and Mr Poznan cannot be viewed stilling straight on the village green as often as he once was, sat with hands resting on the top of his stick like Gandalf the Wizard.

I was a slimmer brunette when when I came to Bwthyn y Llan .

Now I kind of waddle and have my father’s hair. 

I have blogged for over sixteen years now and I’m worrying that I could have heard the last from The Weaver of Grass who was with me at the start of my journey here as she has been at the start of many such journals.

from Going Gently https://ift.tt/ImWZxMQ

Mystery

Today, I returned to a place I had not visited since July 2018 - out on the moors west of Sheffield. It's called The Head Stone and it can be seen very easily from The A57 Snake Pass road that weaves its way to my adopted city from Glossop and Manchester.

I blogged about The Head Stone after my last visit. Go here. In the intervening four years, I have not been able to find out any more about it, except that in past times it had different names including Stump John, The Priestley Stone and The Cock Crowing Stone.

When you are there, you notice the rising ground and the other rocks that surround The Head Stone - many hidden by bracken and heather. Having visited many ancient sites, I am pretty sure that the location is not only interesting because of its geology but because of the long ago secrets it cannot speak. I have no idea if it has ever received the close attention of skilled archaeologists.

I walked for over two hours this afternoon, leaving Clint at the Wyming Brook car park by Redmires Road.  From there, the track descends to  the Rivelin Reservoirs along a track established by Sheffield Council in the early twentieth century - for both leisure and forestry. Some people were collecting sweet chestnuts but their husks are so prickly you need work gloves to deal with them. I understand that all sweet chestnut trees on this island owe their existence to The Romans. They occupied most of Britain between AD43 and AD410 - almost four hundred years. That is of course a long time. They left their mark here in lots of ways.

Here's a picture I took on Wyming Brook Drive with beech leaves carpeting the roadway:-

from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/LAqYQJW