Child Related Shocks

There are only so many child related shocks one can take in a year. One of them is talking of opening a savings account... while the other has taken up walking. Perhaps the enforced hard labour that we subjected them to as children has paid off after all and one day we’ll be embarrassing them as we bump into them at a Lakeland watering hole after a day out on the fells...

Today Daughter invites us up to walk with her. She has planned a hike from Bolsterstone on to the edge of the Peak District nor far from Sheffield. We assume that our attendance isn’t required too early, what with student sleep patterns, so we have a leisurely morning at home before heading up after lunch.

The dogs are confused because I commit the cardinal sin of feeding them before they’ve been out. This immediately makes Doggo suspicious; whereas I’m sure MD thinks it’s simply a bonus meal.

They willingly leap into the car as we head up to Bolsterstone via Daughter’s Sheffield lodgings and a trip to a walking shop to get her some boots. This just gets weirder and weirder.

The walk is an 11km circular affair to Midhopestones and back. Although we don’t actually get to Midhopestones because a group of cows form a road block and make us take a short cut. This should have made the route shorter but L’s Garmin records nearly 12km, so somebody’s measurements somewhere are clearly amiss.

The dogs enjoy themselves, particularly MD who decides to chase a bird that low flies above him, whilst chatting to him in a mocking tone. He takes the bait and, with the red mist fully descended, chases it around several fields before thankfully giving up when a wall and a stream block his path.



I manage to grab him, now mud splattered and soaking wet, just as the bird comes back for another go at him.

Walk finished we leave the boys to dry off in the car and take sustenance at the Castle Inn.



Food wise both my menu choices - starter and main course are off. So it continues... this vendetta.

(Sunday 17th June)

Little Black Book

I get number one bike out today. Pump up the tyres, straighten the seat, straighten the handlebars, straighten the bike computer... it may have had passing contact with partying teenagers but seems to have survived the ordeal more or less unscathed.

Number two bike is misbehaving, so that’s one reason for getting number one out. The other reason is I’m tempted with a Sportive up at Richmond next weekend. So perhaps a bit of practice is in order, not that Nottingham to Derby and back is any preparation for an assault on Tan Hill but it’ll have to do.

I’ve also not entered yet. L questions whether I’m trying to talk myself into it... or out of it? Both. I’ve always wanted to pedal up Tan Hill, I think, for a few reasons. Firstly there’s the Tan Hill Inn, generally recognised as the highest watering hole in England (528m above sea level), and the on-off home of British Sea Power’s own Music Festival. It was also a place I visited with L back in the early days of ‘96. Whether I stuff up my time for the Sportive and the chance of a gold, silver or bronze medal by stopping for a swift one I’m not sure.

Then there’s the question of my little black book.


L got me it for Christmas - ‘100 Greatest Cycling Climbs: A Road Cyclist's Guide to Britain's Hills’. There at number 51 is Tan Hill. It’s about time I started chalking a few off the list. Well two actually, number 57 is The Stang and that appears to be far more fearsome, albeit shorter than Tan Hill, but inconveniently pitched between the start and Tan Hill itself e.g. on the route. It’s going to be fun... or purgatory, according to L. I’m also a natural born psycho, according to L. Flatterer. Actually, I think she's persuaded me and it is only the short 50 mile route. They say the 80 and 100 mile routes have harder climbs, number 45 - Park Rash and number 50 - Fleet Moss to be precise but we don’t talk about what I’ve bottled out of.

Anyhow the bike in on number one was much more pleasurable than on number two, although it was a shame the wind was against me all the way but it's all good practice for those winds they have up there in the Yorkshire hills.

So I’m feeling fit-ish for Sunday's run now. L isn’t. She complains MD was a bit lively this morning and is now complaining of shredded knees. Oh dear. Not what she needs before our 10 miler. She says she’ll have to spend most of tomorrow in bed to recover. Good old MD, that's another biscuit I owe him.

We don’t even have an event tomorrow, nothing to get up, for which means we can head into town tonight and stay out as late as we like. It doesn’t matter a jot if we’re still sat in the Ropewalk at close to 1am.

So we do and we are.

(Friday 20th May)

Not Off The Hook

I finally get chance to get the bike out today. A pleasant ride in during which I managed to stay awake despite a disrupted night. L questions whether I fell off on the ice? Can’t say I even noticed any. A touch of frost that’s all. The pavements did look worse.

Which is where L and the boys collided with a cyclist, who was avoiding the 'icy' roads. Hmmm. Any old excuse. MD was too busy to give him a damn good telling off because someone with a suitcase on wheels was also trying to dodge the cyclist and obviously he went for the suitcase. Poor MD, what a decision to have to make. Cyclist or Suitcase?

L delightedly tells me that ‘Gnomeo and Juliet’ is out.



Obviously the likes of ‘The King’s Speech’, ‘Black Swan’, ‘The Social Network’ etc needn’t bother writing their acceptance speeches for the Oscars because Gnomeo’s coming to sweep the board. What do mean they’re too late to get nominated? Shameful.

L might even be at the cinema with Daughter tonight to see it... hopefully. That’ll get me off the hook.

Seems I should have been out in the pub tonight with a couple of old school friends, because I get a text saying they are in our usual watering hole waiting for me... and I’m on the squash court. There’s obviously been a breakdown in communications somewhere. I wasn’t aware I could have been in the pub instead.

L’s had a bad gym session and is off home to unpick her knitting... yes, I have a girl who knits, though thankfully not in the cinema like Daughter.

It must have been a really bad gym session. Probably almost as bad as my squash session. If I’d got knitting to unpick, I’d be unpicking it right now.

Damn, if she’s unpicking knitting it would appear that they’re not doing the cinema tonight after all and that means I’m no longer off the hook as far as Gnomeo is concerned.

(Wednesday 16th February)