Splendour

The Sheffield suburb of Totley - seen from Totley Moor

Tomorrow, Friday, I plan to go for another walking expedition in virgin territory just south of Huddersfield. I will take a local train up there. It stops at fifteen mostly small stations on the way - including Berry Brow. Using my senior railcard, the fare is only £8 return (US$10.60). However, as I write this, my e-ticket has still not arrived in my e-mail inbox. I have only got the booking confirmation. Normally the two e-mails arrive in quick succession. Ah well, it's not the end of the world... or is it?

Today I went out into the autumn sunshine, leaving Butch in the little car park at the end of Penny Lane just south of Dore. I know that area like the back of my hand and have seen it different seasons, different months, different years. It is amazing that you can find such tranquility in nature on the very edge of this city. I only saw three other walkers and a mountain biker. The walk took little more than an hour.

In places, it was as if the trees were on fire in their autumn splendour. The four pictures that accompany this blogpost were taken this very day.

Once back home, I continued preparing the big cottage pie I made for our family tea (Posh people: dinner). The beef mince with onions and diced carrots was cooked slowly to soften it all. For the mash on top, I followed my customary habit of using a 50/50  mixture of potato and swede (American: rutabaga) and then on top of that grated cheddar cheese. Then into a hot oven for half an hour.

It was well-received but Phoebe objected to having cabbage as a side dish and wanted it off her plate ASAP. After all, she could have contracted mad cabbage disease!

The e-tickets have still not arrived and the company - Northern Rail - shut down their customer helpline at night which is very helpful! But I'm still going to Berry Brow in the morning.



from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/t56z3gH

تعليقات

إرسال تعليق

المشاركات الشائعة من هذه المدونة

Donovan

صورة
Do you remember Donovan? He is seventy eight years old now and lives in County Cork, Ireland - not far from Dave Northsider - our esteemed blogging colleague. Donovan's full name is Donovan Phillips Leitch and he was born in Glasgow, Scotland though both of his grandmothers were Irish. I must confess that when Donovan broke into the British folk-pop scene in the mid-sixties I was drawn to his music. It was pure, simple and unprocessed, driven principally by the lyrics. His output owed things variously to the hippy movement, to Bob Dylan and to anti-war artists. I saw him in concert three or four times and many years later saw him here in Sheffield. However, it didn't seem as those he had advanced. I even learnt to play several of his songs on my guitar, including the following one which many would argue is his best and best-known song - typical of him in his heyday. Please listen... In the East Yorkshire village where I grew up, my best friend during my teens was a lad ca...
Read more »

Closer

صورة
I prepared a Sunday roast feast today. We had to extend out Victorian pine table by adding an old drop leaf table from the greenhouse. It worked out fine. Shirley put linen tablecloths over the whole shebang. All the people I love the most were in attendance: Shirley, Frances, Stew, Phoebe, Margot, Ian, Sarah and Zachary. The menu included roasted loin of pork, vegan nut roast, apple sauce, sage and onion stuffing, tender stem broccoli, roasted carrots and parsnips, roasted potatoes and two types of homemade gravy. This was followed by a homemade apple crumble using the last of the usable apples from our garden with vanilla custard or vegan ice cream. And of course there was water and fine wine to drink. I got to sit next to Margot who remains such a lovable child. She can mimic "mamama" and "dadada" now and when she stands without assistance for twenty seconds or more she is very proud of herself - clapping and laughing when she finally drops to the floor. Za...
Read more »

Checking The Boundary

صورة
 I’m not sure what I’m all about today. It’s a nothing day as I’m back on nights. This time doing my own and not a colleague’s who had been delayed in the beautiful looking Sicily.  I’m mourning my cancelled trip to Italy and will organise one as soon as I can afford it . I’m sat at the kitchen table and the almond milk in my bucket of coffee has curdled.  The oven is purring and I’m going to be making soup soon Butternut squash, bean and chilli  I can hear pawsteps from the bathroom Soon Roger will jog purposefully through the kitchen and into the garden. He will do a figure of eight around the paths, give a half woof at the gate, then will watch the blackbirds or a sparrow for a while, or the bantam cockerel who still lives in the gardens west of the Church before bouncing back to the kitchen. He will stop for a head rub before sitting in the sunny spot on the living room carpet with the others.  An hour or so later he will be off on his rounds if ...
Read more »