Misterton

Abandoned cottages at Langholme Manor

Saturday morning. Sheffield was bathed in gorgeous sunshine and there wasn't a cloud in the blue winter sky. Our garden was still sheathed in frost. 

Shirley went off to her aquarobics session at a nearby gym but not until after I had let her know that I was planning to drive over to Misterton in north Nottinghamshire to take some pictures and walk four or five miles. She said she would join me on the drive over if I could wait till eleven thirty. Several of her blood relations live in Misterton, including three cousins, so it was a good opportunity to spend time with them.

When we drove east from Sheffield we soon hit a bank of fog in  the valley of The River Rother. Then we were through it and back into sunshine but when we reached Bawtry there was more fog. Roadside vegetation, hedges and trees were all coated in thick hoar frost. Up above teasing sunshine kept threatening to break through the murk.

I deposited Shirley at "The Rookery" which is where her cousin Margaret lives with her husband Steve and then I drove straight off towards the flat carr land to the west of the village down single track lanes. "What the hell are we doing here ?" asked Clint as we bumped along into the mist which was as still as a scene in a holiday postcard. Unmoving.

I was out and about for three hours before returning to "The Rookery". The fog never did truly lift but I rather enjoyed the country excursion which produced some interesting images. Of course Shirley enjoyed her afternoon of conversation, tea and biscuits with Margaret, Jenny, Karen and a couple of other family members.

It was getting dark when we left "The Rookery" but I didn't see any rooks. Clothed in mist all day, it turns out that Misterton is well named 

By The River Idle

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Love it

 Lord

Let my heart

Not be dismayed

Trust in You

And let me

Filled with

A joy 

Circumstance

Does not

Have a say

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A Walk Around The Village

I checked my landline answerphone yesterday . 

Eight messages since New Year’s Eve 

I never use the phone now except when I call Nigel . 

His home phone blocks incoming mobile calls

Four silent entries, 2 spam, and one from covid help line about my fourth jab.

The final message was a passive aggressive message from Mrs Davies in the village asking if I was alive or not . She said she had not seen me in months and wished me happy new year. 

She’s lonely and had probably fallen out with her son again , so I harnessed Mary and called round to say hello.

Luckily she was out , so I left a note saying hello and apologising for my absence stating I will work full time ( with college) 

I doubt I’ll be forgiven

It was cold and blustery, but the weather did us both good and we had a proper mooch around the village, something I haven’t done in a good while, not with Dorothy hating a walk near the main road. We walked around Bron Haul and I waved at Marion who still delights to share how her gay grandson is doing. No one else was about until we got to High Street where I spied Jo with her three whippets disappearing into her driveway. One of her dogs only has three legs but I never can tell when they are all together. 

We could go up High Street towards the “ posh Houses” on the side of the Gop but as it has started to rain Mary led me into Maes Offa , and down into Byron Street where I spied Mrs Trellis busy polishing her windows from the inside. The lights were on at affable Jason’s neat little  house too, but I couldn’t see anyone to wave at through the small symmetrical windows.

We walked past the dark lMemorial Hall as it rained harder and Mary stopped briefly to give me a look. 

We then crossed the road into Well Street which looked deserted. 

The cheerful Manleys, Velvet voiced Linda with Nick, Bridget and Boffin Cameron all live nearby but again we saw now one when we gave the Pond a once over. 

It looks splendid with its new little jetty and sympathetic planting even in the bad weather.

Mary had a wee next to the well, which reminded me that we need to look at an official opening day

I have so much to do 

Why don’t I ever feel as though I’ve got enough time?

Answers on a postcard please?

We walked back towards home, and Mary quickened her pace, half closing her eyes in the rain

Wendy from Rhoda Arthur waved from her car as did Della driving back from Pen y Cefn Isa 

We stopped briefly to shelter under the Church Lytchgate. 

It looks bare as the massive wrought iron gates still have not been returned from being repaired

I reminded myself to ask about them when I saw Islwyn next. 

Before we left for the cottage and the fire 

I checked on my laburnum , now stripped of its leaves but remaining healthy and strong.

The rain lashed down from the West just after we got home so hard that I had to put a sock in the letterbox to stop the draught bursting into the living room.

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