Three years and a month ago, I went through the 40mph area at Brough at 52 mph. This resulted in a trip to Penrith on a speed awareness course.
Yesterday, by mistake, I went through the 40mph area at Ings at about 55 mph and the speed camera flashed at me.
Apart from that, me and the bro did an eight-ish mile walk up the Dubbs Road, through the Troutbeck quarries (previously explored in 1964 during a brief camping trip to Troutbeck in which yours truly, abandoned by relieved parents and not really understanding the need for daily food, almost starved to death) – and up lots of contours to the top of Sour Howes and then, briefly to Capple Howe and, after a suitable celebration involving smoked Lammermuir cheese butties and chocolate cake, along the ridge to Sallows and back to the start along an old quarry road and over Mickle Moss and so on and so forth.
It was grey and windy and cold.
This was my 512th Birkett out of 541. I am unlikely to finish Birketts, though due to one of them being steep and scary and called “Pillar Rock”. But you never know, innit?
Bruno came too. he was specially manic for some reason, possibly connected to his recent holiday at Ireshopeburn which seems to have unsettled his usually fairly laid-back approach to everything except food and getting his lead on for a walk. And sticks. And pussy cats. And snow. Actually, now I think about it, he’s not really laid back at all…
And despite the rather unfortunate incident with the speed camera (I’m waiting for a letter) – the walk did produce another gruntle-connected word. Misgruntled – Being happy without a reasonable excuse – reasonableness that which is judged to be reasonable by the man on the Number 42 bus.
Anyway, as a post-script, and to prove that in every dark cloud there’s an angel with a torch, I am very very gruntled to say a big thanks to Ian Paul who koffed up some spondoolies into the Virgin Money-giving account whilst I was away in Dunbar. Thanks Ian. Cheered me up, so it did….