ESHTON HALL

I received an email yesterday saying that the same Yorkshire calendar photographic event was being held again this year and inviting me to participate. My photo last time had reached the last howevermany but not the final 12.This spurred me on to retrieve Elsi from behind the buckets of bird seed and bags of compost in the garage and set forth along the leafy lanes of the county. First though I wrote in large black letters on a piece of card the gears needed for up, down, on the straight and uphill start.

It helped somewhat.

With the intention of covering a few miles I stopped first at a scenic little bridge on the way to Malham and took a few photos. Then a cyclist stopped beside me and asked this and that. By the time I had eased myself away I knew a hell of a lot about his life, his son's lives, his ambitions for the future (he was 86) and his 2 hernia operations. I could go on for another paragraph here.

When he had departed I set off in a different direction but my brain was so addled even reference to my gear change crib sheet was of no help.

I went home and had a cup of coffee.

Later I drove to the garden centre, bought some plants and got all hot and sweaty digging the garden and putting them in. Hotter and sweater than I'd got on my bike ride anyway.

Now I am going for a soak in  the bath. With candles. And a gin and tonic.