Mill

 

On Monday morning I drove east. Through Tickhill and Bawtry then on to Gainsborough. After Gainsborough, I travelled through the village of Corringham and that's when I spotted an old mill standing in a field of bright yellow rapeseed.

There was nowhere to stop and I was on a fairly busy "A" road with a big white lorry behind me. It would have been dangerous to pull in and so I just kept on driving, knowing that I was leaving a fine photo opportunity behind me.

However, returning from Louth on Tuesday afternoon, I prepared  to stop and three hundred yards before reaching the old mill, I turned onto a side road and parked Clint safely in a field entrance.

I was feeling pretty weary as I hobbled along the grass verge until I could find a way into the field. Passing motorists may have been thinking, "Is he an escaped lunatic?" but I didn't care.

East Mill, Corringham was used as a corn mill through most of the nineteenth century but I could not find out exactly when it was built. By 1905, the four sails were broken beyond repair and no more flour was ever produced there. Even in 1885, the mill was described on maps as "Old Windmill"

Similar disused mills may well have been demolished long ago but East Mill survives partly because it had a preservation order placed upon it and it is now  an officially listed building. The blue and the yellow remind me of the flag of Ukraine. Long may East Mill continue, at its lonely location north of the A631.



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Thank you

 Today’s one of those days. Trusting what I can’t know. Trusting what I don’t understand. My mind and I are in a battle. It’s in these times, I realized I’ve not come to full acceptance, full trust in who God has made me to be. You all tell me to give myself grace, so since you repeatedly give that sage advice, pray I can do just that. Thank you for coming back each day to hear me complain about the same darn thing again and again. Love you all. 



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Swimming the Channel

 Bluebell broke down again today which was more my fault than hers. The same easily mended issue with the gear stick which I promised myself I’d sort two months ago. The RAC man should have bollocked me but he didn’t and I was on my way within an hour.
I’d broken down next to the pond in the next village, So the hour turned to be incredibly relaxing.
I rearranged the inside of the car, moved lunch with my friend to Friday and arranged a visit to see old Trefor at his nursing home in Rhyl later today. 
I found some general purpose wipes and washed my face and in a fit of self care rooted into the glove box and found a container of face moisturiser accidentally left in the car by work colleague. 
Without really thinking I took a huge scoop and lathered my face as though I was about to swim the channel then looked up through the windscreen. 
What was I thinking?
Walking towards me, not ten yards away from Bluebell were three hikers.
I rubbed my face and the bloody stuff didn’t disappear as I expected it to, so when the hikers came to pass me they saw this face looking back at them 


I shouldn’t be let out I really !

This afternoon I fared better. A bought a selection of newspapers and visited Trefor at his residential home. He looked and sounded well and looked inaccurate at nearly 99 in a clean shirt and dressing gown 
My hoodie had great globs of moisturiser down the front of it 


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