Yomping on Kinder Scout. Old guy plays footsie with me! [Yuck!]

Friday June 13^th

I am not superstitious, touch wood.

I spent a solitary morning walking Callie in Hill Top Wood. She seemed a bit confused by the absence of the other girl’s smell in the house and kept padding up stairs to the study (My attic) and back as though she was searching for Laura.

I had a solitary swim at the pool and tried for 150 lengths to compensate for being alone. This was foolish as I almost made myself sick with the extra effort. Sarah and I had a long chat and I tried to show a cheerful face to hide how tearful I felt. She said I must find it strange without Laura and my eyes brimmed but didn’t spill.

I decided to try and cheer myself up by reading my new book. It’s Mary Beard’s new one about humour in Ancient Rome. This took me out of my blue patch for a while, in fact for most of the morning.

This arvo I set to and attacked the garden, getting the thing tidied up, the lawn cut short and weeds removed. This is not a long job and by about 2.30 I had done all I could do. So I repainted the outside of Callie’s palace with the green wood-stain as another make work job. This took me over an hour and attracted the attention of Steve and Ann. They told me this was the longest time they had seen me spend in the garden since I built the dog run for Callie. I explained I was at a loose end with Laura being at her Mum

& Dad’s.

I was invited to come round for tea, so I accepted with alacrity. At 5pm I presented myself at their door and was greeted like a long lost friend. We had a lovely meal of home cooked fish and chips with a really scrumptious apple pie for dessert. I wasn’t sure what we’d be having so I took a bottle of white and a bottle of red. We proved that red wine doesn’t really go with fish and chips!

They had a couple of their friends round too. Katie and Rob. They must’ve been about midway in age between me and them. Katie was quite a large person and Rob quite skinny. They seemed quite an oddly matched pair. I am sure that Rob tried to play footsie with me under the table at one point, so I moved my leg out of the way and he did it again. I kicked out at his leg and think I hit his shin.

I once had sex with a guy who’d played footsie with me at a packed dinner table. This old guy had no chance at all. Even if he’d been a younger guy he’d have had no chance at all. Even Johnny Depp would

have had no chance at all. OK, maybe Johnny Depp would…

I stayed until about 6.30 when I rushed back home and skyped Laura. We chatted for an hour and I was determined she wouldn’t see my crying. We both confessed to missing each other like mad and couldn’t wait until next Friday.

Saturday June 14^th.

It was a glorious morning, so after the dog walk and swim I went into town, parked the car and caught the Manchester bus. Callie and I got dropped on the Snake Road at the point where it crossed the flat bit between Kinder Scout and Bleaklow. My plan was to walk across the Kinder plateau and then drop down into Edale at the far end to catch the train back to Sheffield.

I admit I was a bit worried about finding my way if the mist came down but I needn’t have worried as the Pennine Way route was so well defined in places it was like a bloody motorway. We (that is Callie and I) did find ourselves in dense low clouds for a while but we just walked on the path way, following the map and a compass bearing and we arrived at The Downfall for our lunch stop.

Masses of people came yomping past us. Far more than I was expecting, but I remembered it was a Saturday after all and that sort of explained it. I ate my snap and had a drink from my flask and looked at Hayfield (I think) down the valley for a good half an hour. By the time I’d done that the cloud had gone and we struck out for Edale. Again I took a bearing, this time from Downfall to Grindsbrook, just to be on the safe side and off we toddled.

It was a bloody good job I did. This area of the top was really flat bit riven by deep peaty troughs, called peat hags. I found that once at the bottom of one I couldn’t see out at all. Even standing on the top of the next hag didn’t improve my visibility all that much either. If I hadn’t taken a bearing I wouldn’t have had an idea of where I was aiming at all as the featureless plateau had nothing to focus upon to guide me.

It did get a bit hot swarming up the side of these stupid troughs, so after about five of these I unzipped my trouser bottoms to reveal my legs to the world. I think they are one of my best features (guys will tell you it’s my bosom, no doubt) but they did look a tad pasty and lacking colour. I will have to wear more short skirts and shorts to get some colour back in them. Despite my colouration I do seem to tan quite well. Last year my legs were so well tanned I was able to wander around without tights for ages as my legs were so brown anyway. I digress.

Using the trusty compass I eventually pitched up at the top of Grindsbrook with only one slight mishap having befallen me. I decided, about half way across the plateau, if I jumped across the trough I would be spared the strenuous climb out on the other side. This was easier said than done, however, as the troughs would have needed an Olympic long jumper to clear them completely and I invariably landed about half way up the slope of the trough opposite. This wasn’t too much of a problem as I landed two footed and weighing only about 9 stone, I figured I wouldn’t sink in much.

This proved true until about 50 yards from Grindsbrook, which I could sort of make out from the trough tops by now. I launched myself across the gaping chasm and landed two footed on the opposite side only to sink in up to my knees! I let out a cry of anguish but discovered that it was as easy as anything to get myself out of the hole I had made for myself. On top of the next hag I wiped my legs clean and examined my boots and socks, which were clagged up to the ankles with black soggy peaty mud. Luckily, being Goretex line boots, they hadn’t let in water, but they did look a mess. I had to fight back a burning desire to get one of the cloths I carry in my rucksack out, to clean up my boots there and then (the OCD kicking in) but I was able to resist the urge and we carried on to the top of the brook as planned.

There I dumped my rucksack, scrabbled about inside it for the raggy bit of cloth, took off my boots and spent a good twenty minutes cleaning the horrible muddy mess from them. I know it is stupid and not worth the bother, but it is something I just have to do. Interestingly, although I spent a while cleaning my footwear I didn’t do anything about a completely clagged up puppy who sat and watched me busily cleaning. I reasoned that by the time we got to the bottom of Grindsbrook the daft dog would have been in and out of the water so much she’d have washed all the mud from herself naturally. (This indeed proved to be the case.)

In Edale village I went into the Old Nag’s Head and asked if they served tea. They did. So I had a pot of tea before wandering off again to the station to wait for the train back to Sheffield. This line has to be one of the prettiest I have travelled along, it skirts the foot of Lose Hill and Win Hill then stcks to the valley floor until it hits Hathersage. Then we disappeared into a long tunnel which brought us out back in Sheffield. Rah rah rah. (This bit was a bit grubby in comparison, TBH.)

We walked through the city back to the car park, with me getting a few stares for being in hiking gear and shorts. We arrived home at about 3.00pm where I ran a bath instead of a shower and had a long hot soak and relaxed. I relaxed even more in the bedroom where I treated myself to a session with the Rabbit.

I skyped Laura as usual at six thirty and told her about my day. Strangely enough she had been walking with her sister Avril and family and then she had had a long relaxing bath afterwards. I bet she used her rabbit too. We didn’t mention this as Loll’s folks were in the room and even joined in at one point.

I was a good girl. I didn’t cry. (OK. I did when the call ended.)

Sunday June 15^th.

Went over to Mum’s for the day. She said she wanted to go round some of the north Derbyshire garden centres so I drove us to Calton Lees, the one in Hope Valley, one at Calver Sough (which I didn’t even know existed) and a Cactus nursery in Matlock. This was some sort of penance I think.

At first I was OK with it, I had never been to the Calver one, after we’d done the Hope Valley place. Then we pitched up at Chatsworth’s Calton Lees one by which time I was beginning to flag despite letting Callie have a good old run in the Duchess of Devonshire’s garden. I suggested we went to Caudwell’s Mill tea room for a snakerooni and Mum agreed.

After our scoff she decided she wanted to find this blasted Cactus Nursery in Matlock. It took bloody ages. In the end I called up the address on my mobile phone and found the route from where we were (Matlock Bath). I was disappointed by the place but Mum thought it was ideal and she bought a handful of succulent plants. Thoroughly garden shopped out, I drove us back to Mum’s and a very late lunch or early dinner.

After a super lunner or dinch we had a long old gossip about life, the universe and everything (no not the book!). This is something we do once in a while. I confessed to feeling completely adrift without Laura and Mum told me this was a good sign that our relationship meant something and was serious. I knew that anyway.

I spilled the beans about my worry over what would happen next. Laura’s graduation is the large elephant in the room. When she does that I am really concerned that what career path she decides to follow may take her away from me and Sheffield. I know it is selfish to hope it doesn’t, but I am scared that it is very, very likely.

Mum asked if Laura moved away would it make me love her any the less. I said that it wouldn’t. She asked what the matter was then. We would sort something out when the time came. There was no point in borrowing trouble before it happened. To be fair I have used this philosophy all my life – don’t worry about things before hand as it may never happen. It is a bit of an Australian approach to life. I told Mum this and she hooted, telling me at least my father had been good for more than their three children then!

Mum has been busy with her camera films from Australia last year. She has put them on to her lap top and tonight she burned them onto a CD for me to have. They were such fun to see again. I could see why Mum objected to my denim shorts so much on the times I wore them; my buttocks were hanging out the back of them most of the time. I hadn’t realised how short they actually were. At one point she spoke to herself saying, “I hope Vic doesn’t bend over or we’ll have a second new moon visible!” That got us into hysterics.

She went on to say, “As for that bloody lace top. If you ever wear that again don’t put on the nude bra with it. We had guys walking into lamp-posts as they were too busy ogling your breasts to watch where they were going, as it looks like you have nothing on underneath it…”

“But that was the idea, Mum!”

We had to agree to differ.

I kind of like the idea of guys checking me out. It makes me feel good about myself. Is that such a crime? Mum thought it was a short step from that to selling my body for money (if only you knew, Mum, I thought).

The video of us at the wildlife park holding the koalas was magical, as was the feeding of the Roos in Dunsborough. I am so looking forward to sitting at home and watching this CD through by myself properly to fully appreciate it. Laura is going to love it.

I left for home at about 8pm after we had skyped Laura together and Mum and Molly had reminisced about the old times when she was Mum & Dad’s cleaner / caretaker at our holiday home, before they divorced. Molly hinted that she wished she’d had the courage to do the same years ago. I was a bit shocked and so was Laura. It was obvious there was going to be a long conversation about this when our skyping was over.

Back home I sewed some more of my Ruskin project, walked the woofie and had a solitary night – again.