Flit-Fluttering and Ironman Dreaming

Flit-Fluttering and Ironman Dreaming

When the lock down first started Steve and I were most concerned with how we could manage to maintain a decent fitness level, let alone keep ourselves ready for any of the events that we had already entered, long before the killer virus took such a firm hold on the world. I left the planning to Steve rather than making any attempt on it myself, since I am a bit of a flit-flutterer-dreamer both physically and mentally. I have too many things flying around inside the dark Tardis reaches of my mind.

Sometimes I am inclined to agree with the many people, friends, acquaintances and others who have over my years in triathlon told me quite bluntly, “You’re mad, you are”. I have never taken offence at that, because it is just a point of view about one person, held by another. It was never going to draw me back into or behind a line where I do not want to be held, either in my sports or poetry/writing circles.

Triathlon has been a huge part of my world for thirty years now and I have made so many friends and had such a great and very satisfying time, travelling in a completely new way with the sporting direction. 

The poetry and writing appears on the surface to have burst out of nowhere when a had a fall whilst running while on holiday in Southern Italy, when I ended up with three broken bones and was expected to stay still and allow the bones to mend. I had to keep my brain busy too, and set myself the challenge of writing a poem every day until I could compete again, so that meant not just the six weeks in plaster but until I was on the starting line again. The writing eventually brought me to starting the small poetry group of Scribblers a few years ago now.

That is not the complete truth though. I have always loved poetry. I was in the Speech Choir at school. My brother Peter also loved poetry, books, plays and movies. He left home to work in a London hospital when he was seventeen. I was over five years younger and I wrote to him all the time and continued to do so regularly. When he was called up and went into the Air Force and was stationed in Germany still working in a hospital laboratory, I fully took over the link from home. At that time I already had a number of pen pals because there was no such thing as social media in those days but believe me, I had my own version of that. 

 Richard Shiff as Toby Zeigler in The West Wing 

Now; dragging myself back to the keep fit in lock down eh? What did I say about being a flit- flutterer. During one of the big sort out missions my husband applied himself to just to keep busy, was to engage himself on a big hit on the household shelves and cupboards and that was where he came across the complete box set of The West Wing, that we had watched years ago when it first came out. “This will do nicely for endless turbo sessions” he announced. “We enjoyed it at the time it made it debut, it is long enough ago to enjoy it again”. He was right. 44 DVD’s 154 episodes 5 hours of extras, interviews and out-takes.

The bonus of this box set is, that every episode we watch reminds us that on one of our many holidays staying with dear friends in San Diego, that we would quite often do an event or two or three while we were there. It is also a most marvellous place to get some training done. How does The West Wing remind us of California when it is set on the other side of the USA? Something so simple that it won’t get out of our heads. On one of the many great meals we have been out to enjoy with our friends, was to a restaurant called Sbica in Del Mar. We have been there lots of times and had terrific meals there. On one occasion, I started to nudge Steve and the nudge spread around the table because, sitting on the next table was Richard Shiff who played Toby Zeigler in West Wing; he won a handful of awards in the years that he was in the show and he has been in dozens of other TV shows and Movies. You would know his face if you saw him too.

One of the top ranking events Steve and I did in the USA was Ironman California that was based in the US Marine base, Camp Pendleton.  That is not the same race as the one I mentioned the other day; that was California Man near Stockton. This race was organised, run and marshal

ed by US Marines. The start of the second lap of the bike ride passed through a salute of Tanks with the big guns meeting in an archway. All the aid stations were ultra efficient. I stopped at one to answer the call of nature and as I stopped, a young marine took my bike asked what drink and bars I wanted and when I came back it had been replenished and wiped clean to boot.

 

There were also quite a few Marines also taking part in the race. The only bad thing I can say is that during the swim it was quite rough. At one point a huge hand took hold of both my of feet together and hauled me right under the swimmer the hand had belonged to, who then swam right over me and away. It was as a very fast and strong action but I was completely unhurt and carried on regardless.

There were wetsuit strippers at the end of the swim and the bike course was great on the first section because it was cool because there was a sea fret as we call it, but in the USA it is a ‘marine layer’. Then there was a big climb up into the sun and a hilly return to the start before the second lap.

The run was not too comfortable for me because I had broken two toes in my previous race the week before in Perth, Western Australia, where I had got alone but was very lucky to have good friends there to stay with. Steve had met me at the airport in Los Angeles. I was almost last in and there was a troop of Marines to see the slower people to the finish. Steve had a worse run that me because at the start of the second lap he had twisted his ankle on a sandy section he continued but very slowly and painfully and we found out later that he had broken his ankle. In my age group I had qualified for Hawaii. There were very few older women doing Ironman races in those days.

Sadly somebody dies in an accident on the bike course. There was a hairy descent with a sharp turn that I think was the problem. The next year the event had been shortened to a half Ironman which was a disappointment but we did that one too. There was a speed restriction of the big descent that year.

Flit Fluttering

They say, as a butterfly fly’s into your space

It is the spirit of someone you love visiting you.

I’m not sure of the origin, who set it in place,

but a lovely idea and I try to see a face

as it happens, I smile asking if it’s you?

Maybe a loved one, who is now far away,

unhappy, hoping once more to be a friend

the soul of a dear one remembered to this day.

I like the idea, whatever its origins may say

imagery suits sentiment. So let’s start a trend.

When next you go jaunting through the wood

as wings dance from a blackberry bush you past;

who do you miss most and what if they could

visit just to give their love, so you should

tell them how glad you are they came at last.

colour them by character so you would know

to show them in gay disguised warm flattery.

My brother a bright Red Admiral’s show

neat, armed with a ready joke he’d know

quick wit ready for verbal assault and battery.

Dad a humble pure Cabbage White viewed

no showing off, turning his hand in any way,

never boastful but proud of his little brood,

taught by example, working for their food.

Nothing in temper, or a bad word would he say.

My mum now, that’s a hard one for admission,

would never be what you wanted that’s sure.

She would change the flitting apparition

to be her just to choice, of her own volition;

I’ll say Dragonfly or something obscure.

I would be of my favourite colour tint

if you miss me and feel my warm touch

a dark green fritillary the shade of mint

something sparkly to make your eyes squint

shadowy Purple Hairstreak as tresses I clutch.

The Morning After the Night Before

 

The Morning After the Night Before

Neither of us slept very well last night and when the alarm went off at 4.15 a.m. we were both already awake. We took a food short cut last evening and ate couple of frozen pizza’s that needed to be rotated on the very much still with us emergency food plan, which is not a plan exactly. We both blamed the pizza for the poor sleep knowing that in a normal world we only like to eat fresh food. Yet those pizzas, bought for the ‘just in case day’, when we might have run out of food; although they had not really been sitting in the freezer that long by some peoples standards, it was long enough for a pair of foodies like us, that are set in their ways.  They were next; in the exacting controlled way that Steve is keeping a keen eye on whatever is in the cupboards and fridge and freezer. We do know folks who have that olde worlde war time idea, that storing food for years on end is a good idea. Not us. Habits are hard to change.

 

We had used the pizzas, because we wanted to get cleared away and washed up before settling down to Cendrillon being streamed from the Royal Opera House. We had never seen that opera so it was something we did not want to miss. It is the Cinderella story and was a true delight. The music is by Massenet and we loved it, even though it had the spirit of traditional pantomime since the part of Prince Charming was played by a woman. Alice Coote and the Cinderella character of Lucette, was sung by Joyce Di Donato. I could not find the name of the fabulous Fairy Godmother, who had the most astonishing range. The scenery and the outrageous wicked stepmother and ugly sister’s costumes were all wonderful. Loved it. 

That said, we got dressed quickly, threw a short coffee down our throats and drove off for our morning run hoping as ever to be alone in the woodlands. We had covered about a mile and a half when Steve muttered that he could see something moving up ahead and was it a deer. We soon realised that it was not an animal but a human being. As we got closer to the a man, who was ambling along quite slowly, we looked at each other questioningly since he did not look like the usual walker. As we got closer it became obvious that he was STILL up rather than up early. Steve made signs to me to move to his other side. It was a young man with shoulder length hair, dark at the roots and the rest was well grown out dirty blonde. His scruffy jacket looked as though he had been dragged through a hedge backwards and his pants wear ripped right across the top of one leg with an expanse of pale flesh showing through.

As we started to pass him I said a cheery, “Hiya” as I do, and Steve said “Morning”. The young fellow almost fell over looking over his shoulder and had it seemed, not heard us coming. After a few seconds he called “How far to town”.

Steve slowed and shouted “Which town” and neither of us made out what he replied but it sounded roughly like it started with and A….. Arundel or Angmering or Anywhere!

Steve called back to him “You’d best go back the opposite way, keep going until you reach the road because you’re in the middle of nowhere here”.

I shouted as we ran on that the way we were going came out in Patching in a couple of miles.

We thought that he must have not found his way home after his Friday night outing to wherever he had been. Those woodlands are not that vast, but it is easy to get lost if you don’t know them.

We carried on with our run toward Patching, but only to put in and extra mile before making a turn back the way we had come before turning again to make up the distance we wanted for today. We didn’t see him again and presumed that he was alert enough to have done as Steve told him and walked back toward the west.  

It was not a big day for wild life, and the best thing was saw was a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker quite close up eating something on the grassy bank, that was nice. When we were within the last mile there was short hill rise that we usually walk up the second half of but this morning I caught up with Steve and goaded “Come on Dave, its Pay and Safe Hill” that is something that we often recall, from a classic Hawaii Ironman World Championships years ago when there was a big dual between, Dave Scott and Mark Allen. We have banner with that image in shadows hung inside our garage to garden door. It bears the two great Ironman hero’s images clearly and unmistakably shown. Steve rose to the bait and we ran together all the way to the top. We still have the video somewhere.

When we got in the car, before driving home Steve showed what a good run it had been which was surprising after our first half marathon in a couple of years,  only done two days ago. The Garmin Forerunner showed: Best 5 km and Best 10km, within this mornings run.

Once home we did an hour Ballet workout and another hour of Yoga. Then I sowed a different variety of snow peas in a grow bag by the back garden wall whilst Steve made scones for our Saturday late breakfast. Yum.

What are the Odds

What are the Odds?

After a few things that have happened in my world over the last week or so, I found myself searching Google to see what it had to say about coincidence. A few of the results I found are the following:

Is coincidence really coincidence?

Is coincidence a fate?

There is no such thing as coincidence in the way that people think of it. Nothing just comes out of the blue with no reason. Everything is under natural law and has a cause or causes. Everything is fundamentally the manifestation of the will of some being.

A coincidence is a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances that have no apparent causal connection with one another. The perception of remarkable coincidences may lead to supernatural, occult, or paranormal claims.

‎

“What are the odds?” is pretty much the catchphrase of coincidences, a coincidence is not just something that was unlikely to happen.

Narrowing my own coincidences down to the last twenty four hours; one is fairly typical of the every day kind of everything that we put down to coincidence. In my diary here yesterday I rambled on about a long distance event that Steve and I took a holiday in the USA to take part in. The California Man, same distance as Ironman races, 3800 swim (in a lake overlooked by Folsom Prison) 112-115 miles bike ride and a marathon run. We had a ball on that holiday, happy days.

Whilst writing about that I mentioned that we didn’t look that happy in the finish photo. Well when I was hunting for pictures to illustrate the yarn, Steve asked me what I was looking for and when I told him, he joined in the search until I called a halt after we had both wasted half and hour looking for said photo. It was not that important and we both forgot about it. Then this morning, after cutting out what will be a new a summer dress, from the pile of remnants I have bought over the years and stored in a cupboard. I looked through the pile of pretty print and plain material to see if there were any white pieces that would serve as a lining for the skirt section of my new dress. At the very bottom of the pile I saw the edge of a 10 x 8 photo and pulled it out to see what it was. Blow me down with a wing tip feather of a bald eagle, if it was not that very photo, nowhere near where our old race photos are kept. What are the odds?

The second is a bit different. After he and I had done our morning training that today consisted of one Tai Chi and two Qigong sessions followed by an hour on our turbo trainers watching a bit of the same old, same old TV news reports and then one episode of our old box set of West Wing, episode 19. All this was done at home due to what I keep on calling, ‘The Plague’.

After we were done with our fitness regime, we sat and had a coffee listening to the last part of Stephen Kings ‘If it Bleeds’. It’s a set of short stories and the last one, is a standalone sequel to The Outsider. I love Stephen King into tiny little bits and I have been going on a bit about the closeness of the current situation to Kingy's best book, as far as I am concerned, ‘The Stand’, the theme of which is an almost world ending virus that leaks from an American laboratory and kills almost everybody. New series of that will be coming up soon on TV.

So, as I was saying to Steve that there was another book that I had read when I was in, what, about my thirty’s, that was called The Plague written by Albert Camus. I read several of his books at about the same time, as you do when you really enjoy the first book you read by a new writer to you. Many years later I read The Diary’s of Albert Camus that was lent to me by a friend. In the casual coffee time gossip with Steve, I mentioned that it was also interesting that both Camus and King had written books, years apart, with the same title, The Outsider, also a great a TV series.

All of that is probably not coincidence but inspiration maybe. Yet, when Steve then, had a phone call from a client that he had moved out of his home in Paris last year, there was one. When he put the phone down he told me that the client had been writing about Albert Camus. Now that did made the hair on the back of my neck break out into a prickle. What are the odds?

I downloaded a photo of the cover of ‘If it Bleeds’. There is an image of a cat on the cover.

Here is my little cat Birdy.

Anniversary Celebration Run

 

 

41st Anniversary Celebration Run,

This morning we did get around our planned half marathon run that we had chosen as a challenge for our 41^st Anniversary. We were at the start point at 5.20 a.m. and were very happy with the way it went. It was not an easy course and had plenty of ups and downs and was off road for the most part. Our time was 3 hours 10 minutes. We were glad we had made an early start because it was a lot warmer today than it has been. Steve wore shorts for the first time this year but I stuck with tights since I knew there were some rough sections and I didn’t want to get scratches from the brambles; my skin is easily damaged because it is quite thin due to my age. The distance was a bit of a jump up from the eight mile runs we have been doing regularly of late, but apart from our toes feeling a little tender when we finished we were well pleased with ourselves.  

We do always mark our anniversary in a way that makes it a lovely memory. More often than not we have gone away for a couple of days or as we did last year when we went up to London for lunch, a show and an overnight stay. The other option would be to find and event that is very close to the actual day. The race thing, doesn’t work quite so perfectly because our anniversary is always on a Thursday. We married in Ascension Day. 

We seldom hold the celebration on the calendar date of our wedding that was May 24^th 1979. We have done that a few times but it has usually been an extra celebration day. This year we would have held both days because we were entered for Ironman 70.3 Graz, that would have been this Sunday coming (before it was postponed for a year) and in that case we would have made sure that we were already in Graz for Ascension Day. That would have fallen on the Thursday before the race.

The last time we did a race on the calendar date was I think California Man based in Folsom. That was a very nice stay for what I think was our 25^th Anniversary and the race was great fun to do. We did come over the finish line together for that one having done eighteen to twenty miles of the run together.

It was not quite as slickly organized as Official Ironman races are, and it became clear to them, after dozens on complaints, that the bike course was 115+ mile long and late in the event they adjusted it taking the three plus extra miles out of a dog leg section toward the end. That is how Steve and I came to meet on the run; he had done the extra mileage and I had done the snipped back to 112miles bike route. I was lucky to get to the bike finish anyway since I was nearly wiped out by a wild turkey crossing the road suddenly. Vultures were watching the bike riders.

The run course was beautiful and toward the end, in total darkness for us slower people. It was in a preserved area. A two loop course in a shallow canyon with a river running through the centre. There were high bridges at each end to cross the water. There were signs to watch out for rattle snakes and mountain lions.

Neither of us looked that happy in the finish photos because it was hard run. Again to point out that it was not held strictly to Ironman rules, they waited for everybody to finish the event. Steve and I were glad to be inside the stated cut off time, but there were others a good way behind us and they let everybody finish. The last competitors came in at about 2.30 am to cheers and bright lights at the finish. It was not a qualifying race for anything else. The awards were the next day and very nicely done. It was a very nice friendly event though and we enjoyed our stay there enormously the organisers were lovely people. 

In Another life

In another life, Steve and I would have been in Graz, Austria at this moment in time. We would have got here probably yesterday to give ourselves an unhurried approach to our race; Ironman 70.3 Graz. We might have driven around the 56 mile/90km bike course to check it out. Then we might have taken a stroll around the city centre and walked part of the two lap run course. We have looked at all the travel websites so we would know what we wanted to go and see, maybe take a tour around inside the Opera House. It looks lovely on the outside in the photos. We did that in Dresden during a weekend visit there a couple of years ago.

There are some marvellous opera houses in old cities and Steve and I are both keen fans and to point out how keen; this morning I had searched You Tube for Dmitri Hvorostovsky and Jonas Kaufmann singing the duet from the Pearl Fishers when Steve asked me to turn it off. I was a bit surprised but when I turned to him he had tears running down his face and it was only half way through. Two cords into the overture of La Traviata and he is off! Worse than me, or as bad anyway.

With the fact of the postponement of this event in Graz, that we had so looked forward to since we entered it ages back, last year even possibly. The only good side of the coin is that we will have the full glory of our climbing roses this year, whereas we are usually away somewhere at this time and so very often miss them at their best in the first flush of summer. We set to thinking what we should do this year.

 

As you know because I am sure I have mentioned, we like to make a big thing of our special celebration days. E.G. last year for our anniversary, which most people miss because we married on Ascension Day and celebrate each year on Ascension Day. The confusion arises because it is a moveable feast. For many years, only Steve’s mother knew when it was and made sure that we knew she knew it was our special day. Now she is gone, only we are sure to remember the day in a special way.

Last year Steve had done all the planning and surprised me with a very special day when as we drank our morning coffee he told me that I had better hurry as we had a train to catch. We took the train to Victoria, walked past Buck House, along through the park and past Horse Guards Parade to our hotel for the night. Then having ditched our wheelie bag, we went to our favourite Russian restaurant Bob-Bob Ricard for late into afternoon lunch. We prefer to walk around London and never tire of all the marvellous buildings and monuments and crowds from all over the world.

Then later in the evening we walked from the hotel to the Coliseum to see The Man from La Mancha. That musical is a big all time favourite of mine, in fact my daughter bought me the DVD years ago and I still sometimes run it as I do the ironing.  This time it had Kelsey Grammer, Peter Polycarpu and Daniele de Niese and Nicholas Lyndhurst. We stayed in London overnight and came back on the train the next morning.

We had to think again for this year with no possibility of travel. So we have decided to do the run distance that we would have been doing this Sunday were we, as planned in Graz for our big race. So we plan to link two local runs together to make a half marathon like the Graz race that we are missing off from the calendar now.

We will start our anniversary half marathon as per blinking usual these days at 5.30am tomorrow morning. Steve has been watching measurements on the Garmin Forerunner that he is a total slave to, noting parts of the runs we have been doing of late, and he has devised the perfect route for us. There will not be crowds of people to cheer us on, there will not be race atmosphere, there will not be a finish line to hold our focus on as we run, or a finish photo. There will not be a finisher’s medal or tee shirt moreover. It will however still be a special day for us and we will have marked it in a special way.

This morning dear diary, my coach told me that we would have an easier day before our effort tomorrow; we don’t usually do long runs, way too injurious for us oldies to run too far too often.

So we started the day today with three consecutive Qigong sessions, then an easy spin on the turbo for an hour. After that I did some washing, pegging out and some more gardening. Steve took advantage of the sunny day and topped up his tan a bit in the garden listening to talk radio.

Years and years ago Steve bought the contents of a small ladies dress boutique that had been stored in the spare room of the family home after the woman who ran the shop had died unexpectedly. The family of the lady had kept the clothes for forty years. We put most of them in a retro auction and made a small profit even after I had picked a half dozen items out for myself that I wore often in those days.

The reason to mention this today is that one of the items was a Russian lamb coat that I wore for years. It was very warm but quite heavy. In recent years it has just hung in one of my cupboards and I noticed that it was literally falling apart, splitting here and there; well it was as old as I am. So this morning I cut the top section off, both sleeves and collar were removed. The lining and the facing cloth of the pelts, then folded the piece to make a luxurious window seat for my little cat Birdy who enjoys sitting at the upstairs front window on my desk/sewing table to survey the world that she used to roam free in. It’s not that extravagant since the repairs would have cost the earth, and it was my coat anyway so I can do what I want, it was well past its best and totally un-saleable. Birdy loves it.

Stretching of the Boundary’s

The blue grey face rose,
square jawed.

The narrowed eyes
leveled aggressively

as they burned
with the fire of dawn,

downcast and threatening,

the mouth
a straight spiteful slit.

The floating grey hair
drifts to one side,

as if windswept.

Stretching the Boundary’s

We all see images in the sky now and then. some are wishful others more definite.

This was the later and would have been frightening were it not simply the product of sunrise.

It was not an image that could have been caught with the phone camera because the fire in the eyes of that sunrise cloud face, would have held too much glare and a true picture would not have been possible as we drove toward the traffic lights at Crossbush on the A27 before we turned east for the remaining mile of our drive to the start of our run this morning.

Yet understand this; I did not make up that visage in the first lines today, it is what we saw.

The run itself was mediocre and uneventful, not one of our best and thankfully that went for both of us. We agreed that we must both be a bit on the tired side after a busy day at home yesterday when we got through a lot of jobs, some business communications, keeping in touch with colleagues and clients who all hope that things will pick up after a slump that has been unprecedented during the Covid19 crisis.

There are no newly planted Geraniums, Petunia or Pansies in my garden this summer. No hard earned cash squandered away on prettying up my postage stamp size back garden. No; instead I have planted snow peas and dwarf French beans, several varieties of lettuce and other miscellaneous seeds all in the wall planters and big pots; my theory is, that anything that can climb, can also cascade.  I have even planted grass in pots for the cat Birdy who is also shut in with us, to prevent her being stroked by any germy passer-by or neighbour.

My lovely daughter Jakki, know better as Jacqueline Rackham Photography, has encouraged me in this uncharacteristic bent by sending me some started lettuce plants from her nice big greenhouse, a big pot with a few runner bean plants, another gift from J, ready to climb the bamboo sticks she had already set up. She also sent her husband along with a couple of grow bags in case I ran out of pots. What a thoughtful young woman. 

So the garden is now tidy and expectant. The snow peas, Shiraz variety, are already four or five inches tall. The French beans a bit behind, as I was sowing them. 

This is not the only change in my home life habits since after a good deal of sorting and tidying, I realised that at eighty years old, I do not need to buy new clothes ever again for the rest of my term in office in our humble abode. It was this realization that brought me to the decision that during this time, mostly spent indoors for the last eleven weeks, that I would not lower my standards and simply slob out in comfy old clothes. 

To that end, once we have finished our daily triathlon fitness training, that involves run or bike training daily, then Qigong sessions, Tai Chi, Stretch, Yoga and the much loved ballet workout. I then take a relaxing bath and dress as if we were going out. I am giving my best dresses, long skirts, shirts and other tops that have been saved for best, all a turn to parade about in, even if only to listen to Classic FM Radio or to chat over dinner or a cup of tea in the afternoon before selecting something to watch on TV before we go to bed. Bedtime is early in a house where the alarm goes of a 4.20 a.m.  One of the recordings being offered of West End shows, Opera or ballet are favourites. The National Theatre and the Royal Opera House have a weekly schedule and almost to suit us, they start a 7 pm and finish at our bedtime. No intervals.

In another poignant moment this morning, I wrote these last words for today.

This small poem is number: 1015 in my poetry file.

Can one think where the future leads us now?

Of government order we’re locked indoors.

Vigorous argument shows no way out,

In this rogue sickness still swirling about.

Dare we trust each day, with my life and yours?

Places to go, books to read, plans to make, dreams to fulfill

Housesteads Roman Fort

Places to go, books to read, plans to make, dreams to fulfill

I have a few books to go through that have been given to me in the last week or two and I have enjoyed the first few overview that I have had flicking through them. They are flick through kind of books since all three have pictures. Two of them are walking books and it was funny that they should fall into my hands exactly at this time. I have been wondering more and more, as we find out more about the Covid19 situation, what I would do if the sport of triathlon, that my husband Stephen and I indulged ourselves in for 30 years was not able to continue in its present form. What direction would I want to take or which way would I turn for fitness?

It has been on my mind that we might possibly go back to long distance walking as event holidays. We have done quite a bit of that and thoroughly enjoyed it. The two walking books that fell into my lap are Great British Journeys, written by Nicholas Crane and seen on BBC TV.  The other one is Untrodden Ways: A guide to some of Britain’s lesser known long distance footpaths. I will enjoy reading them both because I do love point to point walking days, linked together into a holiday and a good test into the bargain.

These books had Steve and I scurrying for the old photo albums again and the most photos used today, are from a fair few years ago when we walked the Pennine Way with a friend and the photos I have picked today are of a highlight of that holiday. They also made me think of another walking trail that I have not done yet but would really like to, and that is the full length of Hadrian’s Wall. This is where I have to confess to a strong love of anything connected with the Roman’s. I am a big fan of all the treasure that they have left our nation.  We crossed Hadrian’s Wall on the Pennine Way and it was a hard task getting me to leave the Housestead’s Roman Fort. My imagination went completely off the rails that day. The books started my long term promise to walk the full length of the wall some day. It needs to be done. 

Other walks on my wish list are the Coast to Coast and there has been a long term longing for the time and money to walk the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain also. I quite fancy doing that on my own but I get funny looks all whenever I say that, I have read a pile of books about that one.

I mentioned three books at the start of this page and the last one is entirely different. The Fairy Stories of Oscar Wilde, illustrated by Harold Jones published in 1976. The illustrations are charming and these stories have passed me by entirely. I intend to read them next. 

I have always made a point of reading the most popular children’s books; I like to know what the little darlings brains and heart are being fed. So yes before you even think to ask, I have read all the Harry Potter books and thoroughly enjoyed them. My parents read to me as a child and they made sure I knew all the best tales. My mother made some up as she went along which was fun too. It has to be better to read to children and engage with them, rather than leave them watching TV or playing electronic games. I am one of  Mrs Thatcher’s ‘Lady’s not for turning’ on that issue.