Mow Cop Folly.

With a clear blue sky, I went off to visit the Mow Cop Castle though, it isn’t a castle. It’s a bit like the Bayeux Tapestry not being a tapestry, it has delusions of grandeur. The folly rather dominates the landscape being visible from a few miles away as seen in the extra; in spite of that, and the fact that I’ve been there several times before, it’s remarkably difficult to find; I had to stop and ask the way. It’s tucked behind some houses and completely out of sight once you’re close to it, and the entrance is not immediately obvious to a driver negotiating narrow streets with its allocation of parked cars.
 
Although the place was hooching with visitors, the arctic temperature dispersed them fairly quickly and I was able to eliminate the remnants from the Blip. The slightly gibbous moon compensated in its own small way for the cloudless sky; having just looked up the precise definition of the term gibbous, I discover that it means “humped” – poor moon, the indignity of it.
 
The silhouette of the folly is well known throughout the tricycling world as it is used as the badge on Longstaff trikes which are manufactured not a million light years from this spot. George Longstaff, the founder of the business died a few years ago and, subsequently, the business floundered for a while; however, it still lingers on though I don’t have any current reliable information on its success – or otherwise.