Three of the blogs I follow all had ‘Adventure’ in their titles today, that’s the last thing that can be said about mine.

After lunch when the sun finally came out I needed a walk; didn’t want to drive anywhere, didn’t want to go in the wet fields so a local road circuit was ideal. This circuit of just over 4½ miles used to be one of my regular winter runs. I never did get below 35minutes. Today I was happy to see what was of interest on the way – no particular place to go.


At present there is so much housing development in town causing road closures and diversions. All the traffic is now coming down, the normally quiet, Halfpenny Lane at an alarming rate and causing queuing for heavens sake. Traffic becomes one of today’s bugbears, thats a strange expression. It is whizzing dangerously past me at 60mph in a 30 limit as I set off and continues to do so onto the main road, I felt uneasy when I shouldn’t have to. Too many cruising along rapidly with their radios on full blast. At one point the pavement was blocked by an overgrown hedge and stepping into the road was a scary experience. I think I’m going to avoid this stretch from now on, the automobile has taken over. I know I’m an old moaner but what have we allowed to happen to our villages and lanes, I can only see it getting worse. Who wants this hectic life?

Thankfully I entered Back Lane and all was peace and quiet by the cattery, must be a great life.

Other catteries are available – I have used David and Rita’s Champion Kennels nearby for 20 years. Amusingly I was on holiday last year with a couple who use Purrfection and their cat sent them a text message halfway through saying he was OK. I complained to my cat, in Champion, about his lack of thought but got no sympathy.

In the grounds I caught a glimpse of one of those old railway cabins used for storage on many farms and small holdings after their life on the track was over. Where did you buy them from?Along the lane a farmhouse, date-stone 1782, is being renovated and provides a contrast to its more modern extended neighbour. Ashley Lane winds through the fields with distant views of Parlick, Fairsnape and Longridge Fell. Overhead a pair of buzzards are wheeling and crying, there seems to have been an increase in these majestic birds in the last few years around here. My phone is not capable of capturing their image. The afternoon drifts on and I spend time picking and eating blackberries from the hedgerows though I didn’t have the patience to collest enough for a pie.  I spot an Inkcap Mushroom in the verge; these are edible when young, but react badly with alcohol as they contain the Antabuse chemical, I recall from my foraging days when I enjoyed them on toast.The occupant of this house obviously has a tractor obsession. They all looked pristine, there are lots of tractor shows in Lancashire.

I have commented on these pigs before, hog roast tonight?

Now heading home on Inglewhite Road the traffic increases once again and the tranquility of the countryside vanishes. I think tomorrow a fell walk would be preferable.








    1. bowlandclimber

      At the moment every time I step out of my door I risk being killed by boy racers or middle aged plonkers in BMWs.
      I am seriously concerned about the automobile taking over our lives and am attempting to do something about it in our locality but frustrated by the diligence of highway authorities and police.

  1. McFadzean

    I have a collection of pictures of old railway goods wagons in strange locations and a couple of years ago I broached this subject with a landowner and asked him where he got his from. He said that many years ago he saw an advert in a trade mag placed by British Rail: old goods vans for £50. So he placed an order, and BR brought it round on a lorry and placed it in his field, all for £50. So if you fancy giving Richard Branson a ring for a wagon for your garden . . .


    I slept in one of those wooden ralway wagons on the last night of my Pennine Way somewhere below the Cheviot. I huddled in a wet down sleeping bag with no food and a gale rocking the wagon – one of my most miserable nights ever. I walked into Kirk Yetholme early on the Sunday morning with a few tears of emotion. There was nobody about and I had hitched home to Preston by lunchtime. I think the old wagon has long since been replaced by something more modern, but I’m not sure.


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