Wednesday, 15 July 2015

Stoodley

Some of the reasons the Pennines worked so perfectly for the textile industry still go together well.  

Hills, flowing water and mill ponds/reservoirs combine very nicely  for fun on a summers evening. 

A fast three mile run up the pike, followed by a glorious swim looking back at the race route. Not to mention beer and chip butties. 

Should I feel guilty for gaining pleasure amid the relics of my ancestors hard toil?

I did sweat, feel pain and almost shed tears. My face was still red, when I was driving home, enjoying the sunset over the moors. 

But, I don't think even fell running qualifies for industrial suffering. 

It makes you feel too happy. 

At least I am appreciating the landscape that previous lives created. 






Petals

On Sunday, when we ran, Jo was entranced by a mass of heart shaped petals we found on the floor. 

Love on the run. Maybe love is the answer. 


Thursday, 9 July 2015

Thursday

Things you notice when you haven't got any one to yack to. 
Thursday nights are often quite emotional. 

The relief of almost getting through another week. 

Tonight, Jo was drinking wine after mountain biking with her husband.

(She's secretly training to try and keep ahead of me on the hills). 

So I ran by myself. 

It was quite late before I got out. The sun was disappearing over the hill. The cows were munching and fortunately ignoring me. I ran home happy

Another emotional crisis averted by the wonder of wandering around in the grass. 

Saturday, 4 July 2015

Sunny Day

West Winds Tearooms. Chicken and Bacon Pie.

Buckden Beck, Buckden Lead Mine, Buckden Pike.

Windswept War Memorial.

Fell race route down.

Beer Garden. 

Nice day. 









Wednesday, 1 July 2015

We're having a heatwave

Some things don't change about Wednesday nights.

Things like, discussing (arguing about) the route with Kevin; debating the merits of the pub with Paul 
( especially if it's an unusual one not found on the - set in stone for years - list); getting slightly lost; making fun of the person who has got us slightly lost; running in the lovely hills we live in; always being glad we went and enjoying the merits of a beer. 

Somethings are more unusual.

Like heat that makes it difficult to run ......and yet easy to sit outside the pub for ages afterwards. Enjoying the light and sunshine, escaping the pub quiz and bingo(!) and waiting for the pink full moon to rise above the green valley. 

We talked about the things we'd miss if we couldn't run. We appreciated that we still can. 

Robert Wilson's Grave. We were last here one January.