Island

Stott Hall Farm seen from the south

In this blogpost, I am just going to focus on one feature of Monday's walk - namely Stott Hall Farm. I think everybody in the north of England knows about this place even if they don't know its name.

At the end of the 1960's road builders completed the M62 motorway linking Hull with Liverpool. East coast to west over the Pennine hills that had kept Lancashire and Yorkshire kind of separate for hundreds of years. It was a huge undertaking involving challenging engineering issues. 

At Stott Hall north west of Huddersfield, the planners decided to split the two carriageways leaving Stott Hall Farm marooned on a kind of island. A typical upland farm that would thereafter have traffic whizzing past it both on the left and the right.

Self portrait taken on my way to Stott Hall Farm with Booth Wood Reservoir in the valley

Many northerners wrongly imagine that the island was created because of an obstinate sheep farmer who refused to vacate his farmhouse and resisted the authorities' compulsory purchase orders. The little guy won! But sadly that is not the case. It was all to do with geology and solving stress issues.

Studying maps I noticed that I would be able to walk under both carriageways of the M62, briefly visiting the Stott Hall island as I undertook a four hour circular walk that would bring me back to the Scammonden valley. I had left Clint napping there with a cute baby blue Honda Civic called Marilyn.

My main photo of Stott Hall Farm does not reveal the fact that  motorway traffic is thundering past on both sides. The farmhouse benefits from triple glazing - just like my hotel room in Outlane but the only time there would ever be perfect peace there would be during a total motorway closure because of heavy snow. That might only happen once every five years or so and then only for a few hours.

It would be a weird place to live that's for sure but better than an apartment block in south eastern Turkey or a concrete war-torn village in northern Syria. Oh those poor people!

Stott Hall Farm on its island

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Braces

 Walking with braces is a daily experience. Sometimes it’s painful. Sometimes it’s a nuisance, but it’s always necessary. I wore them as a wee one, and for a few years now I’ve returned. My pride took some blows. My pride is nothing compared to weak ankles. Without these implements, I fell constantly. I learned how to fall correctly. My doctors gave me a stern warning. I was to do everything not to fall. I turned ankles as much as I love candy. These braces are my access to the world.  This is priceless. I had to understand that I won’t wear anything but these braces and sneakers, but that’s okay. I had to learn that it’s not a badge of honor to be black and blue. So if you meet me, you will see me sporting men’s Nike’s and white AFO’s. 

Have a blessed day. 

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When All Is Said And Done

 

3000 ABBA fans in one purpose built, eco friendly stadium all intent on a good time.

What’s not to love.

We had a late lunch/ Early supper at Dishoom, then caught the central line to Stafford then the DLR to the Olympic park. 

We had a bottle of wine before the concert.

And it was a concert. A large band, backing singers and light show par excellence supported the ABBA holograms just as they would have done to four “real” artists, so from the get go the audience was transported to the ABBA of yesteryear.

It was all rather magical and at times strangely moving, especially as each of the band in close up hologram form addressed the crowds with an aside or anecdote in their 70 something older voices.and when they cranked up a gear, complimented by some very expensive and lovely light effects,  the whole area erupted into one big best friend meeting hug.

My favourite part, well apart from watching Janet becoming her 11 year old self again, was listening to Anni-fred sing the most melancholy of ABBA songs When All Is Said And Done proving even a hologram can be emotional 

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