Friday February 28th.
For my sins I subscribe to several magazines, it is cheaper
than buying them off the shelf and paying the full price. I have BBC Music; the
Radio Times and Classic Inspirations. The latter is an Australian Quarterly
embroidery magazine; I first started with it on my gap year. One of the full
page adverts in this quarter’s edition [it flopped onto my door mat this
morning] was for that South African woman’s cabinet classes and lots of
illustrated pictures of the modern versions she will be making. They do look
gorgeous. I am not going to shell out nearly $3K for the privilege though.
Laura has said I ought to put together some sketches of a
wooden cabinet of my own and find a local carpenter to make me one, following
my plans. [I may have mentioned this already.] Seeing those glossy photographs
in the advert in Classic Inspirations has goaded me into some action. I will
draw up some preliminary sketches and then let my fingers do the walking to
find a suitable carpenter / joiner / woodworker willing to make one for me. The
price would have to be right, of course.
After our usual walk and swim the day went pretty much as it
normally does at Uni. My Supervisor finally got back to me about my Research
Support Manager and has assured me there is nothing to worry about; it is just
a bit of admin / bureaucracy which got overlooked when I was appointed. It came
about because of the resignation of the Fabulous Andrea and the headless
chicken approach of the department in deciding what to do next. According to my
Supervisor they had toyed with giving Felice’s job to me but in the end went
for her because of her subject knowledge (specifically the Old French). I have
to wonder who the mysterious “they” are.
Laura has put her stats work on hold for a while. The one
based around my shoes and the i because she has been asked to do some more
probability stuff based on the last assignment she handed in. She got a First
for it and they want her to do some more along the same lines. [It could be Old
French to me!] She is chipper about the whole thing, mainly because it came as
such a surprise to her. To celebrate, if the weather is good tomorrow, we are
going to walk the Lose Hill, Mam Tor Ridge around Castleton.
Tonight, after our meal she zoomed off to the restaurant again.
Our Scampi Tails meeting at Ann’s last night got cancelled because she is ill.
The doctor was sure what it was at first but it turns out to possibly be
glandular fever after all. Phew. I sent her a card and some flowers from work
this morning and she e-mailed me this evening to thank me for them. They had
arrived mid-afternoon well, the flowers had, I expect the card will take longer
being sent by snail mail.
I had a long and seriously mad call from Phil as well this
evening. He had just been all day with Jane after a false alarm at the
hospital. Whilst in the hospital he had been looking through one of the
magazines left lying around and found a set of barns with planning permission
already granted for three detached dwellings in Loxley. He wanted to know if I
knew where they were, what sort of area Loxley was and if they were good did I
want to join him in buying them and converting them to sell?
I think impending fatherhood has affected his reason. They
are only £290,000! ONLY ! ! ! He does get some pretty mad ideas at times and I
am afraid I told him so. He couldn’t see it. He has worked out if we pay {we?}
the asking price, it would probably take another 150K to convert them and we
could them sell them at about £400K each. The maths does sound interesting but
I told him I couldn’t commit my savings into something like that.
He flew off the handle a bit and went on about me buying the
stupid caravan on Arran with Dad. I had to point out that my contribution to
that was only £10K and I would be using it for the next 20 years or so for my
holidays. Plus Dad was paying two thirds to my third because of the amount of
usage we had worked out between us. It is quite a difference having to find £225K with no guarantee we would make
the return he has predicted. He went on
about me being Daddy’s Favourite and I was always the spoilt one and in his
eyes I was little Miss Perfect. I told him he was just being silly and upset
because of upheaval caused by Jane’s false alarm. I’d telephone again on Sunday
and talk about it again then.
I had a call a few minutes later from Jane. She’d been in
the same room as Phil when he called me and she was calling to tell me he was
so sorry. In fact, he took the phone from her and bleated the same thing to me.
He was sorry. I was right. It was the worry. Jane isn’t due for another month
or so and today had just been a nightmare, getting her to the hospital, sorting
out Peter and Angela; the disappointment of the false alarm; sorting out the
kids again; then the house thing. He knew he was being an idiot. I asked him
what his excuse was when there wasn’t a crisis. He laughed and told me I had to
wait until I went through it then I would understand what he had been through.
So I quietly asked, “Erm… What about what Jane has been through today? Have you
considered her?” That brought a profound silence from the Leeds end of the
line.
My brother can be a complete pillock at times. This is the
person who handcuffed me to railings with his toy handcuffs and left me there
for hours!{I was about five} OK, we did some cool stuff too, like sailing to
Yarmouth and blowing things up [I don’t mean we blew things up in Yarmouth..
LOL]. Where did the likeable, mad, reckless, wild, funny brother go? Maybe he’s
right. Perhaps I do have to live through those things to know what it is like.
Perhaps that is why inside I still feel like a little girl, at times, instead
of a supposedly grown woman?
Bloody Laura. I told her about Phil when she came back. She
has searched the net, found the properties and done the maths. She thinks it
could be a real winner. Well, thanks for that, oh Princess mine!
Saturday March 1st. St David’s Day.
Next major Saint’s Day is mine!
The weather, while not being 100%, looked passable so we
went for a different kind of walking today. We parked up at the Middlewood park
& ride car park and caught the tram to Sheffield Station. From here we
bought return tickets to Hope and set off on our mini “expotition” as Winnie
the Pooh might say. Callie hasn’t been on many trains [or trams for that
matter] but she seemed at one with the travel.
The journey from Sheffield takes you along the River Sheaf
for quite a while. Where Sheffield gets its name. There are terraced houses and
industry near the centre but after a while it thins out and the roads get more
tree lined and there is more greenery. We went past Millhouses Park, which you
drive past on the way to Mum’s house but from a completely different
perspective. At Dore I began to wonder what was going to happen as we didn’t
seem to be climbing too much [I am too used to trams, obviously] after a couple
of minutes we entered a tunnel which seemed to take a week to pass through. I
am obviously a stupid cow as I hadn’t even thought about tunnels, it’s coming
from Norwich that does it I guess.
At the other side of the tunnel [only about five minutes in
reality] we entered paradise: The Hope Valley. The first stop was Grindleford;
then on to Hathersage; next Bamford and finally our stop: Hope. I have driven
the roads through the valley quite a bit but this was our first time by train.
I can thoroughly recommend it. The views are delightful, all the way from
Grindleford onwards. I expect it is equally picturesque on from Hope too. The Edges
are visible from the train and the gently rolling White Peak stretches softly
away to the south. In contrast the separate tops of the Dark Peak crowd the
northern view, with Win Hill dominating much of the skyline.
Our stop, Hope, is probably smack bang in the middle of the
whole length of the valley and to the North Win Hill looks massive. To my eyes
it is so unlike how it should appear given its diminutive height compared to
the Lake District Giants with which I am more familiar. We know what the view
from the top looks like having been there a fortnight ago, and the effort
required to reach the top is quite little in comparison to those aforementioned
LDGs.
Our route today took us through the little village itself
and along the Edale Road for about a Kilometre. Then we branched off left and
climbed the cone of Lose Hill. From high we have the Great Ridge, which runs
from the summit of LH to Back Tor, Hollins’ Cross and then climbs to the
shimmering mountain itself; MaM Tor. I don’t know who Hollins was or why the
rigde is called “Great” but it is an impressive sight. There are so many in
Cumbria that would put it to shame but in its own context it is Great, I don’t
know of another feature like it in all of the Peak.
From Mam Tor we were going to skirt round the back and down
the dale behind Peverill Castle, explore the village of Castleton (avoiding the
tourists) and walk back along the river to Hope. That was the plan, anyway.
The walk from the station to the path up Lose Hill was a
trudge, to be honest, but from then on everything was wonderful. Not too steep,
not too demanding and great views all round. It was a lot muddier than I had
anticipated but we have the gear so it’s not a problem. The view from Lose Hill
summit is excellent, especially over Kinder Scout. That looks like it could be
our next destination.
You can see why Great Ridge is called that because from Lose
Hill it looks so inviting. Sadly it is so inviting it was like Sheffield High
Street along it. I had planned to have lunch (sandwiches) at Mam Tor summit –
so, it appeared, had everyone and their father too! I was heaving. I guess it
is such an easy climb and the weather was pretty kind this honey pot had
definitely attracted the bees. It made me think of Rocher Edge above High
Bradfield which has equally stunning views and could be walked without meeting
another living thing, except birds and the odd sheep.
Never mind, eh? We scoffed and drank and gawped and chatted
to a group of girls who were doing their Silver Expedition first practice walk
for DoE. When Laura blabbed that I had my Gold Award we couldn’t get rid of
them for ages. They were all from a Private Girls’ School in Darley Dale. I had
to confess to being ignorant of the area, being from Norwich, so I had no idea
what they were describing at all. They seemed very keen and eager to show off
their knowledge. A couple knew the Lake District and they were impressed by my
list of Wainwrights bagged. [I only have the Far Eastern Fells book to complete
then I have done all 214. Out of the 36 in that book I still have 15 left to
do!]
Callie was in her element at the top and eventually I had to
put her on the lead as she kept disappearing to go and sit in front of people
eating their sandwiches giving them the big, sad, doggy eyes which said, “Please
feed this starving doggy. My mistress never feeds me!” Unfortunately, she is very
successful at this and cadges way too much than is good for her. The girls all
fell for the googly eyed routine too. I tried to stop them feeding her but they
did anyway. I did insist on no chocolate though.
We left the girls heading back the way we’d just travelled
and we strolled across to the top of Winnatt’s Pass. This is an old collapsed
cavern by the look of it which now has a raod running through it. We continued
across the top and down Peverill Dale instead to arrive in Castleton. This was
even busier than Mam Tor top, no surprise there I guess. It is a very
picturesque, typical Pennine village although I suppose there are more
off-comers and holiday makers than locals here now. We did the tourist stuff, I
am sorry to say, and looked in some shops [OK, all of the shops] and had a
lovely cake and cuppa in a café before taking the wettest footpath in
Christendom back to Hope and the Railway Station.
To be honest, Castleton was a bit of a canker on the
otherwise idyllic walk today. I guess it has grown as tourist place because of
its proximity to Sheffield and the good transport links to the city. We caught
one of those good links and watched the Derbyshire countryside vanish before
our eyes again as we rattled our way back into Sheffield.
All in all, out little venture was quite an expensive
affair. The train tickets and tram tickets cost us far more than we would have
spent in diesel driving out to Hope but the experience was probably beyond
price really.
The whole walk was about 8 miles and Callie seemed to have
brought every scrap of mud from the walk back with her. In the car I have this
silly pressure spray device, they are meant for watering plants or
administering weed killer and the like. I use my one specially to hose Callie
down [and Dad’s dogs when I walk them]. It only holds five litres which
sometimes isn’t enough for Dad’s three and Callie but by herself she only uses
a small amount. It must have looked strange in the Park & Ride car park to
see me washing down my pup before letting her into the car. It is a cylindrical
pressure vessel, made from plastic, with a pump which you use to build up the
pressure. A fine wand gives a spray which cleans the dog(s) down a treat. I saw
one advertised in the Dog’s Trust Magazine (I think) for about £30. I bought
mine on line for a fiver! When I am cleaning down The Aged parent’s pooches I
have to keep re-priming the pressure, with Callie one lot is sufficient. I don’t
think she enjoys it very much and she stands there with a resigned expression
on her face while I indulge my cleanliness obsession on her!
At home our stew was ready to eat but we waited half an hour
while I cooked dome dumplings to go with it. It was yummy.
We hit the charp after Salamander on BBC 4, which is early
for us, on a Saturday night. I guess we were more tired than we thought.
Sunday March 2nd.
What a contrast today; grey and cloudy and looking like rain
for most of the time. This morning there were no dead amphibians again, which
was a pleasant surprise, but this warm dampness will fetch them out in their droves
now. As spring has meteorologically sprung, too, I guess their little amphibian
passions must be rising as well, so there could be lots of frisky amphibs out
there looking for Mr or Mrs Right Amphib to bonk. [I know they don’t bonk, BTW,
their eggs are fertilised outside the body, they don’t use the mammalian
reproduction method, don’t fret, I am not totally ignorant about how babies are
made.]
Today was definitely a Radio Stars day, especially as mid
arvo the heavens opened and we got a huge deluge that lasted well into the
night. We spent our day sewing, working, reading, cuddling, cooking lunch and
generally watching the rain spots as they fell. You can’t beat snuggling up
together on the sofa and listening to the rain beating against the windows.
Callie and I got drenched on our evening walk, and try as we
might we didn’t encounter and amorous frogs, toads or newts on our travels.
However, we did encounter an extremely aroused Mathematician when we got back
home whose needs I attempted to satisfy for an hour or so and who, very kindly,
returned the favour.
What’s the song? Spring’s in the air, when you’re young and
in love?
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