Conquered

Today it's time for a bit of shameless self applause. There are numerous reasons, but may I briefly draw your attention to that picture that I always have to ensure is present before I launch into one of my write ups.

You see it? You've seen it before. It's 'my' Cathedral, viewed from the Observatory Tower in the ground of Lincolns fine Norman Castle.
At this point 99% of blippers will still be reading. 1% will not. That 1% will currently be picking their jaw up from the floor and watching eight rashers of Danish fly past the window.

'Why?' I hear you ask (well I think that's you asking, it could be the voices in my head that usually tell me stuff like 'one more won't hurt you' or 'that shirt definitely goes with those jeans'). I'll tell you why. The Observatory tower has waist height protection from a fall from height. I have an insatiable and irrational fear of shedloads heights.

This isn't your normal 'I don't like heights' fear either: this is your bona fida 'I'm not going on the third step of the fucking ladder and thats the end of it' fear. I genuinely cannot climb more than four steps of a ladder, and unless my feet are touching tarmac then I'm out of my comfort zone.
I recall (to myself) an incident in Matlock when I was 15. I'll say no more, perhaps thehutch or lookingforlove might furnish you with the details. However the point is that throughout my life I've always avoided being up high (at least with my eyes open).

So today I was gently cajouled into climbing the 67 steps to the top of the tower to have a look at Lincoln from the best vantage point thats open to the public. I have been there before back around the age of eight. At eight 'fear' doesn't really exist: you'll do anything and only decide you don't like it while it happens. I recall being eight and walking out the tiny doorway at the top of the tower. One minute I was all gift shops and sweets, the next minute I turned into 'if you ever take me up the fucking tower again mother I shall divorce you and renounce the family name'. I didn't like heights. I don't like heights.

Yet somehow today I am able to bring you the blip that any self respecting Lincoln resident should already have brought you. Our magnificent gothic cathedral looked almost straight in the eye, no craned necks and plenty of rooftop garnish. From up there in the heavens you really can appreciate the quality and majesty of my favourite building, even if one side is blanketed by JK's Scaffolding (I do know it's JK as well as he married Cleans sister Julie...).

So you blippers are all very lucky today as this isn't a shot I ever thought I'd bring you. It's more or less SOOC as well, because sometimes a photo can be everything it needs to without Adobe helping it along. This isn't just a picture of Lincoln Cathedral and Bailgate area. It isn't just a nice view with some quite strong heritage thrown in. It isn't even a picture at all. It's a statement, it's a feeling and an emotion all rolled into one.
It's facing up to your fears and coming out the other side with something solid to show for the experience. It's me finally being able to take full advantage of the amazing City I live in. For me (and I don't say this lightly) it is probably the strongest photo I have ever taken.

So I would like to say a massive (and I mean massive, not just 'really big' or 'sizeable') thank you to someone for gently easing me into the situation, and thank you for the reassuring arm when I got to the top.

In other news we sold £67 worth of stuff at the car boot, meaning that once the pitch had been deducted (£12, bastards) we came out £55 up. Which means only another £128 needed before Gary and Kirkys Independant Traders are in business. Gone is the banana yellow three wheeler and cockney accents, and in is the 2 litre GTI and suave charm. Except in Kirkys case, he still sounds like one of them Londoners. It's all 'Grarse' instead of 'Grass' and 'Barf' instead of 'Baff'. I guess one day he'll learn to speak proper, y'know like wot I do.

Oh yeah and apparently 6.30am on a Sunday is something a large amount of people experience.

Oh and I wasn't wrong about the potential clientelle. I saw three pregnant women smoking (absolute wankers) and more neck tattoos than on a 'buy one get one free' afternoon down Lidls. On benefit day.
If your having a happy evening then remember this: in 12 hours you'll be at work.

Night y'all.