I write so much on the insanity and venality of the world, yet life is full of endless beauty. I think it the hardest thing to hold, in the same breath, taking in both and overlooking neither, life’s vast … Read More »
… well, not just leaves. September makes way for October in my local park and woodland; on the sands and harbour walls of Bridlington.
Yesterday I picked up my good friend Sue to drive out to Hope, due east of Castleton, south-east of Edale. We parked up near the school and within minutes were on the steep ascent to Lose Hill. Here, more or … Read More »
I won’t lie. The Broads rarely rise above pleasant to pretty for walkers or cyclists. To see them at their breathtaking best you must get on the water. In fact you must get on the water in a craft able … Read More »
Mist on the water, Saturday 05:30. Fellow camper materialises from dawn silence as I top up on H2O. Barely able to contain herself, she tells me – face lit up like Christmas morning, tones of hushed awe – she’s just … Read More »
Many sections of the Wye are still as a mill pond, a fact begetting two unfortunate errors on my part. The first and least consequential was that, after putting in at Glasbury Bridge mid afternoon yesterday, I paddled a mile … Read More »
Yesterday I went with Tracey to Darlington, to help move her son Ross into his new house. I took buses from there to Middlesbrough, then Easington, and walked on a fine evening down the coast toward Whitby. Seen by the … Read More »
Jackie is presenting for Nottingham Uni at a HE Learning Conference in Brum. I came for the ride, catching a string of local buses (Sheffield … Bakewell .. Derby … Burton-on-T … Sutton Coldfield …) to a city not known … Read More »
I used to look down on Windermere as not for the serious outdoorsman; rather, a playground for water sport fiends, party animals and wannabe Campbells. That changed years ago when, having driven up for a spot of camping in Borrowdale, … Read More »
Monday morning around seven-thirty the sun is already strong. Windermere’s more serene west bank, four metres from the shoreline on my right, is gin clear. A school of tiny perch – our handsomest freshwater fish, and thirsty for learning with … Read More »