Adventures of a wandering author...
I rarely travel away these days and usually I’m not allowed out on my own (for reasons which will soon become obvious) but I have just returned from a short trip 'oop north' to see my friend, Babs, in deepest, darkest Northumberland and another friend, Jill, in Edinburgh.
My journey to ‘the village with no bus’ in rural Coquetdale proved relatively uneventful. I wound my way carefully down the remote wooded valleys, catching glimpses through the trees of the surrounding snow-topped hills which resembled fat iced buns, I followed the diversion signs to circumnavigate the landslip and managed to avoid the humungous pothole which rent the road in two.
My journey to ‘the village with no bus’ in rural Coquetdale proved relatively uneventful. I wound my way carefully down the remote wooded valleys, catching glimpses through the trees of the surrounding snow-topped hills which resembled fat iced buns, I followed the diversion signs to circumnavigate the landslip and managed to avoid the humungous pothole which rent the road in two.
A kune kune pig
I always approach the junction where the petting farm spills out into the lane with extreme caution. This time I merely had to stop to let a glossy-feathered cockerel strut across the road. Yes, an entire pack of alpacas watched me over the crumbling stone wall and a couple of kune kune piglets snuffled in the muddy verge, but thankfully there was no sign of the wild goat herd and I didn’t hit anything with a pulse.
Fortunately, nothing hit me either. I was a little alarmed to see on the TV news that both the French and the British armies were involved in a major artillery bombardment exercise on the Otterburn ranges to coincide with my visit. Thankfully, I can report that their missiles were all on target on Friday. However, the vast number of potholes which pepper those Northumbrian lanes suggest that this hasn’t always been the case.
Fortunately, nothing hit me either. I was a little alarmed to see on the TV news that both the French and the British armies were involved in a major artillery bombardment exercise on the Otterburn ranges to coincide with my visit. Thankfully, I can report that their missiles were all on target on Friday. However, the vast number of potholes which pepper those Northumbrian lanes suggest that this hasn’t always been the case.
Edinburgh in the snow
Unfortunately, I had a few problems later in Edinburgh when my sat nav repeatedly tried to take me down a road that was dug up to accommodate the expanding tram network. Round and round the city centre I went – and kept coming back to the same spot. I eventually made it to Jill’s new flat (two hours late) but not before I had spent ten minutes at number 25 trying to persuade a man to let me in. I later realised that I had misread the address and I should have been at number 27. (Ooops.)
Jill and her partner spoilt me rotten and the magnificent city of Edinburgh gleamed with sunlight all day on Saturday. Apart from snapping off their toilet door handle, and mistaking Jill’s cat for a cushion and trying to prop it up on the back of the sofa, the weekend was relatively uneventful.
And, yes…my next trip will be to specsavers…
Jill and her partner spoilt me rotten and the magnificent city of Edinburgh gleamed with sunlight all day on Saturday. Apart from snapping off their toilet door handle, and mistaking Jill’s cat for a cushion and trying to prop it up on the back of the sofa, the weekend was relatively uneventful.
And, yes…my next trip will be to specsavers…
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