Pages of the sea + chips.

Beverly,, Yorkshire and here it was happening to me again.

"Tanya: what on earth have I done this time eh?" I said while Flashing blue lights and screaming sirens followed us as we wended our way to a quiet little parking spot where the 'River Hull' meets the 'Beverly Beck' canal. In total five large shiny red fire engines squeezed into the same small space as ourselves. Brown hi viz clad firemen assured me I was not in the way as they ran past and out toward the river meadows to investigate reports of 'a horse in the canal'. Reportedly nothing was found and, as one young fireman put it:

"probably swam further down, found a sand bank and is now back wi is mates munchin grass."

Peace resumed and a quiet night was had before an exploratory trip into town the next day to view the famous 13th century Minster. 'No dogs allowed'. Well that cut that adventure down to size. The town centre proved friendly though and lightened my wallet some as we headed back to Rap3 carrying new jacket, trews and top.

I was slowly working my way south from Scotland and finally, after several failed attempts in previous years, tackling the English East Coast. Redcar, Staithes, Whitby, Fylingdale and Scarborough. All delightful and 'must visit again' destinations. I had to rest up in Redcar's large seafront car park for a few nights as I coped with a cold/flu type virus which this time specialised in efficient mass production of nasal effluent! Never mind, the excellent award winning chippy over the road gave me the comfort food blanket I needed for ultimate survival. I was also able to attend the 100year 1st World war anniversary 'Pages of the sea' event on Redcar's beautiful beach.
Walking among the hundreds of sand silhouette 'unknown' soldiers was particularly poignant plus, when I raised my eyes there in the distance was the stark and sharp outline of the huge, now dead, still & deathly, former British Steel Works.

"We all used to work there, my whole family and me." said the lady next to me as we both carefully agitated the smooth tidal sand to create our own personal 'unknown soldier'. The tide returned and restored smooth order to the memory honoured beach later in the day.

In contrast the stark darkening silhouetted steel works stayed. Such memories as it evoked still fresh, painful and not yet ready to be poppy'd over or 'tidal smoothed'.

A moving day articulated with accurate, precise and moving poetic excellence by Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy with her 'Pages of the sea'.

If you've not read it, please do.

Golf ball & Durham

"Ouch! What the hell was that" I said to Tanya as I gingerly rubbed the back of my leg. Something had dealt it a bruising blow and stopped me in my tracks. Tanya and I were enjoying a pre-lunch stroll along the bank of the river Tyne in a pleasant country park on the edge of Hexham. I looked around me and quickly figured out that for the first time in my seventy years of stumbling around this planet I had been struck by a meteorite. Well; as good as. I mean there can't be all that much difference between a golf ball travelling at high velocity and my, so say, fast travelling celestial object. The golf ball, now without its velocity, guiltily rested among the autumn leaves at my feet. The owner was spotted heading my way from the adjacent golf course which was alongside the, 'not effective this time' protective line of trees.
I was not badly hurt, just surprised. A pleasant conversation ensued with a very apologetic golfer who admitted it was also a first for him too, hitting somebody with his golf ball.
Tanya and I walked on and back to Rap3 for some lunch before moving onto Durham and, hopefully, weather permitting, a day or two of exploring and viewing Cathederal etc.

We had left East Kilbride behind a couple of days ago after a great visit & time spent with family and Grandchildren Mia, Aidan, Jenna and Rebecca. My; don't They grow. Always the decision to move on is a difficult one. Restlessness, itchy feet, the urge to move. At 70yrs of age I crazily still get all of those feelings and so it was  'Hawick' (pron - Hoick) in the Scottish Borders that became our first stop. Mainly because it is a motorhome friendly town with some lovely walks in the adjacent parkland and woods. The night was a very wet and windy one and despite being warm and cosy in Rap3 I was unexpectedly and suddenly brought down mentally. The trigger was simply that for some reason my brand new all singing, all dancing smart phone had lost all my personalisations of faithful Mrs Sat Nav. Not so smart after all! You would think I should be used to such things by now and mostly I am. However: I have started to notice 'differences' in my 'ability to cope' with bouts of mental lowness post my Oesophagael surgery earlier this year. So far they do not qualify as severe or serious but they are definitely 'different' . Not helping either was the onset of a sore throat which, if previous experience is anything to go by, will develop into a week of runny nose cold/flu.

So: the remedy please Oh master?

Slow down, take extra care of myself and observe/catch those mischievous, devious and numerous gremlins of the mind early on before they command any semblance of serious symbiotic power.

We did precisely that yesterday by using healthy action at 'Keilder Water'. Out of its comfy hidey-hole within Rap3 came bike plus green Tanya carrying bucket and off we went on the 26mile circumnavigation of the huge man made Northumbrian reservoir cum tourist attraction. OK; so we did not start till half past two in the afternoon which meant there was no way of completing the circuit before darkness. No matter; a respectable 11 miles of 'Tanya E-bike walk expodition' lifted mind, spirit and body gaining also a respectable 'gremlin neutrality'. Another thumbs up too to my Freego folding E Bike. It really has put the pleasure back into our cycling 'expoditions'.
........
Durham was OK. I found good wild camping in a quiet local country park. Quiet that is except it was Bonfire night and the local youngsters turned up with their fireworks, risk taking and showing off in front of the girls. I had to ask them to move their antics a little further away from Rap3 and Tanya at one point but they were a good lot and all wanted a cuddle with Tanya, who, these days, through I presume deafness, is pretty unfazed by fireworks. The black plastic bag came out next morning as I cleaned up after them. A small price to pay for a good evenings entertainment.

The Cathederal was a bit of a let down though. No dispute over it being magnificent and oozing history etc etc. But, unlike Salisbury, Wells and Lincoln. Durham does not allow dogs in. Not even if they are small and cuddly and being carried. Disappointing but hey ho the city centre was nice and the Riverside walks were much more to Tanya's liking anyway.
I enjoyed them too adorned as they were with autumnal russet and gold over still water on a cloudy but lightish day. As I walked with Tanya, pushing our bike, I reflected on our recent visit to Cashel forest on the East Bank of Loch Lomond where Kate's ashes lie. I remembered being up there a year ago and reflecting on the fact it could potentially be my last 'living' visit. My cancer journey was all in front of me back then. The Rowan tree we had planted among the mossy grasses and bilberry bushes seemed to be saying the same thing. It looked decidedly unhealthy and I feared it would not survive the winter. I was right too. My visit this year found a forlorn looking broken stalk poking out above the thick Reed like grass. I peered closer and then gasped. There, buried deep within the protective shelter of those grasses was a very healthy and vigorous leaf adorned new shoot.

"Well what do you know eh Kate. I've returned this year with surprisingly good health after being helped by the deep, protective and curative grasses of family and medical professionals and here I am being welcomed by your tree, also spouting new life from deep within protective grasses".

Nature's own Spiritual synchronisation at its best is what I reckon.