News from Nowhere

We had all day to make our way home from Derbyshire, and we'd thought er might spend some of it exploring locally, hanging out with other members of the party. But people had their own plans, so we just took time to stroll down to the bridge and walk a little way along the path, to where durham_rambler and his brother had seen a dipper the previous evening - and then we headed north. Back the way we had come, as far as Ladybower reservoir:



and a bit of a detour on minor roads around the reservoir, but nowhere we really wanted to stop and explore. Northbound, aiming for a route parallel to the A1, we followed Mortimer Road, the old turnpike road over the heather moors to Penistone. The town was festooned with yellow bicycles, perched above shop doorways and plastered across walls - this may have been something to do with the Tour de Yorkshire. We saw them again and again throughout the journey, but nowhere in such a concentration as in Penistone.

Then, quite abruptly, we were picking our way through continuous town, alternating entirely urban streets with stretches where the road followed the contours and gave wide open views. Oakwell Hall looked like an interesting place to stop, but when we got there we discovered the hall is only open at weekends (there was a wedding party being photographed on the steps, in the rain). We had lunch in the café and I bought a couple of cards at the gift shop, and if it hadn't been raining we might have lingered in the garden.

By the time we reached Masham, we were almost ready to keep moving and head for home. Should we stop? Should we carry on? Then durham_rambler spotted a wine shop, with a parking space right outside it, so we ended the day with some serious shopping (I bought an item of clothing, and how often does that happen?). The butcher had a special offer on venison, the delicatessen had Rakusen's Yorkshire crackers (which look pretty much like Rakusen's matzoh to me, but we'll find out when I open the packet) and the wine shop had wine. It had gin, too, because these days everyone makes artisan gin, but wine was what we bought.

After this excitement, I slept most of the way home.

We are in Willington. No, not that Willington - the Willington seven miles from Durham, where Stile restaurant used to be, this Willington is in Derbyshire, on the Trent and Mersey Canal:



We are on our way to Shrewsbury for a birthday celebration. When we were first invited, we had great plans to make a holiday of the trip, and explore this part of England. but as the date came closer, we realised that it was hemmed in by other commitments. We have managed to shoehorn in a day (tomorrow) to visit a National Trust property we saw ages ago on television, and have wanted to see ever since.

durham_rambler had a date this afternoon to be shown round the County Hospital development, and I should have gone too, but chose (and it was my choice) to put the time into clearing away lunch and packing the suitcase, so that we could set off as soon as he got home. A longish drive puts us here on the outskirts of Derby, dining at the Dragon on mussels (eating mussels by the canal, as we did at Easter|) and a burger, after a short stroll along the canal in the evening light.