Walking like there's no tomorrow

I was up north at the weekend, and I was really glad to get out of town on Friday. That thing, what's it called.....daylight, that's it: the daylight thing never really happened on Friday. The weather was so dark, shitty and rainy with no respite, that I felt like I could quite easily take it personally.

As I waited for transport to take me up north, I sat and had a regular coffee. I forgot just how big regular coffees can be, but it was very nice so I drank nearly all of it, and was rewarded with a nice dollop of hypoglycemia about an hour later.

Still, up north I was in the company of some old friends and a couple of new ones, all gathered at someone's house for food and drinks and conversation. As I've mentioned in a previous post I'm taking a break from alcohol at the moment: rather than that being a struggle in any way shape or form, I found myself actually having to remind myself that I was sober, such was the atmosphere. It was easy to get lost in the flow of conversation.

Once again I took dozens of photographs, and the following day we had a walk for a couple of hours. The weather couldn't have been more different to the previous day: bright and sunny, and surprisingly warm. Despite being with others, I tended to lapse into my own thoughts as I walked: I usually do, and it's not a bad thing, it helps me to think things through.

Weekends just seem to be too short these days.

Weekend (3)

I had a shit weekend.


Far from being in a pleasant rural area, it was a place of unrestrained urban sprawl.









There was no atmosphere.









The local buildings had no character.









The scenery wasn't much cop.









There was nothing worth going to visit.









Not even any decent walking routes.









The weather was terrible.









The pace of life was way too hectic.









I couldn't relax.









My accommodation was nowhere near a pub.









Thank goodness that wasn't this weekend though - as you can see from the photos everything was just fine and dandy. I found out when I arrived that I was staying at Willersey, a charming little place: pleasant, scenic and very relaxed. The last picture is through the doorway of my accommodation (which was lovely) looking across to the pub. I'd thought I was staying inside the pub but it was a separate little building less than a weakling's stone's throw away. I'd warmly recommend it to anyone.

The only odd thing about the weekend was, as I went for a late night wander round after several delicious pints of ale, I was sure I could see sparks and flashing lights in a clearing in the trees. In my semi-inebriated state, the only thing I could think was that this seemed to be consistent with spot-welding or arc-welding.

Still life with plug socket and product placement

Things have been getting a bit desperate lately. Only four bottles of whisky left, and just one of those was a single malt. Not a good state of affairs: the top of my fridge, where said bottles sit, was starting to look a bit desolate. The single malt itself hasn't far to go, so whenever I've fancied a tipple I've been drawing increasingly on my reserves of the lowly blended stuff.

Last night I went to a gathering of bods who had been involved in one way or another with the music festival I had been helping at a couple of weekends ago.

As thanks for my travails (whatever that means), I was given a present: things are looking rosy again!


I like it when this kind of thing happens.

Meanwhile I'm away this weekend, visiting a couple of good friends and their wonderful 8-month old daughter in a lovely North Derbyshire village (so North it overlooks Manchester from a great height). Hence, things will be a little quieter here at the Press, probably. Unless I do some late-night, less-than-sober writings. Either way, have a good weekend yourselves, whoever might read this.