shewhomust | I dreamed I saw Phil Ochs last night -

No, I didn't really. I drifted off into sleep from half-dreams about packing, and what I needed to remember to bring with us, and how much of the lurking washing-up I'd be able to clear before we set off. It wasn't until I was clearing away the breakfast things that

durham_rambler pointed out that yesterday had been the 50th anniversary of the death of Phil Ochs - I knew that the date was approaching, but my mind had been elsewhere... So:

I dreamed I saw Phil Ochs last night
Alive as you and me
Says I to Phil "You're ten years dead"
"I never died" says he
"I never died" says he

Not ten, fifty. Fifty! How is this possible? If there's one songwriter I've been turning to lately, it's Phil Ochs - and I'm not the only one.

Anyway, packing was completed, and we set off - as much as packing is ever completed. But it wasn't until we were crossing the high Pennines that I gazed at the misty landscapes of Cumbria and realised I had forgotten to bring my camera. Yes, I am very annoyed about this. But I have my phone, and

durham_rambler has offered me the use of his camera, so it isn't the end of the world. Later on I thought I should probably have brought some olive oil, too, but it shouldn't be hard to buy some.

We lunched at the ice cream parlour in Brough, though we did not go overboard on ice cream (I had a single scoop of biscoff, which was fine). We had planned a stop for a cup off tea and a recharge of the car, but the place where we had intended to do this never presented itself, so we carried on to our destination.

We are spending a week in Little Cowhouse, a converted barn near Chirk, which is in Wales, though we are just across the river which forma the border, in Shropshire. We have a view down onto the bridge: the border, says our host, is right across the middle of the bridge, with the result that neither country fixes the potholes. On Monday the Bears will join us (travelling by train) and we shall have fun together.