I was supposed to do a bit more of Hadrians Wall today, but the weather forecast had weather warnings for Cumbria and I would now be entering the Western part of the wall. I just didn’t fancy getting wet yet again. So I was quite pleased, really, when, at about half ten or so, on my third coffee, it started raining on Crook.
Later, whilst suffering from Bloggers Finger, I decided to take the dogs for a run around Hamsterley Forest. (The dogs do the running, I just watch…) I put two one pound coins in my pocket, loaded the doggies into the new knipemobile with the clean seat covers and no dog sick down between the seats and set off for Hamsterley.
There was a lad on checkpoint Charlie at the entrance. He was in his little checkpoint hut. He had the look of somebody who had come to work this morning full of hope for yet another interesting and useful day cutting down trees and having interesting chats about yesterday’s defeat of Man United by the Turf Moor lads, only to be told that he was working the toll booth today. He’d been there since half eight. It was now Three o’clock. Nothing had happened all day. His brain had atrophied. His very soul had gone for a fly around the moors somewhere. He was no longer in. Once he'd scoffed his egg and tomato sandwich at half nine this morning, the most interesting things about the day had been the clouds scudding past and a large spindly spider in the corner of the window. Over there. During the afternoon, it had trained him to sit, lie down and beg. Tommorrow, it was going to expand the repertoir to stay, fetch and squash (flies)
“I only have two pounds” says me.
“Dribble”
“And it says that the toll is three pounds”
“Hmf. Nyer do pah!”
“I’ll just go, then shall I?” I could see he was struggling to overcome some kind of neurological dormancy. If only I could speak spider.
“Nyer. Shert. Collum. Arrsh”
Bruno growled darkly.
I headed for Mickleton where we could all have a romp on the Teesdale railway path and eat blackberries – and there’s some wild apples. But, we were distracted on the way just by the longest living set of temporary traffic lights in the world, now permanently concreted in…. to Hayberries.
Hayberries is a Durham County Council nature reserve and I’d never been. So we went.
It seems to be some kind of peri-glacial heap of sand and gravel of the kind you would find just around Eggleston. Some mof it has been quarried, and some is grass, and other bits are woodland. And there’s a pond. And lots of wild flowers and thrushes and blackbirds and butterflies. And sticks to chew up.
Bruno had a good leap around and Tammy sort of poddled in a geriatric sort of way.
Hadrian’s wall tomorrow and some speliological stuff after that.
If you’re in Teesdale with nowt much to do – have a look at Hayberries on the Eggleston to Mickleton Road. Its fab! That’s Hayberries. For all your doggy-running-about-daft needs. Hayberries, the family nature reserve. Hayberries, its fucking great, man.
Later, whilst suffering from Bloggers Finger, I decided to take the dogs for a run around Hamsterley Forest. (The dogs do the running, I just watch…) I put two one pound coins in my pocket, loaded the doggies into the new knipemobile with the clean seat covers and no dog sick down between the seats and set off for Hamsterley.
There was a lad on checkpoint Charlie at the entrance. He was in his little checkpoint hut. He had the look of somebody who had come to work this morning full of hope for yet another interesting and useful day cutting down trees and having interesting chats about yesterday’s defeat of Man United by the Turf Moor lads, only to be told that he was working the toll booth today. He’d been there since half eight. It was now Three o’clock. Nothing had happened all day. His brain had atrophied. His very soul had gone for a fly around the moors somewhere. He was no longer in. Once he'd scoffed his egg and tomato sandwich at half nine this morning, the most interesting things about the day had been the clouds scudding past and a large spindly spider in the corner of the window. Over there. During the afternoon, it had trained him to sit, lie down and beg. Tommorrow, it was going to expand the repertoir to stay, fetch and squash (flies)
“I only have two pounds” says me.
“Dribble”
“And it says that the toll is three pounds”
“Hmf. Nyer do pah!”
“I’ll just go, then shall I?” I could see he was struggling to overcome some kind of neurological dormancy. If only I could speak spider.
“Nyer. Shert. Collum. Arrsh”
Bruno growled darkly.
I headed for Mickleton where we could all have a romp on the Teesdale railway path and eat blackberries – and there’s some wild apples. But, we were distracted on the way just by the longest living set of temporary traffic lights in the world, now permanently concreted in…. to Hayberries.
Hayberries is a Durham County Council nature reserve and I’d never been. So we went.
It seems to be some kind of peri-glacial heap of sand and gravel of the kind you would find just around Eggleston. Some mof it has been quarried, and some is grass, and other bits are woodland. And there’s a pond. And lots of wild flowers and thrushes and blackbirds and butterflies. And sticks to chew up.
Bruno had a good leap around and Tammy sort of poddled in a geriatric sort of way.
Hadrian’s wall tomorrow and some speliological stuff after that.
If you’re in Teesdale with nowt much to do – have a look at Hayberries on the Eggleston to Mickleton Road. Its fab! That’s Hayberries. For all your doggy-running-about-daft needs. Hayberries, the family nature reserve. Hayberries, its fucking great, man.
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3 comments:
Nice one, Mike - interesting videos!
What the hell is the brown dog doing 18 seconds into the first video?
The brown dog is superdawg (aka bruno) and what he's doing there is territory marking by scratching the grass. It'll leave a scent. Its a dog thing.
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