Bank holiday weekends in Britain are meant to be grey washouts - but not so this particular Bank Holiday weekend. Here in the heart of our country, the weather has been brilliant - wall-to-wall sunshine with many lard-coloured legs on show and young Tom in our local pub was even in flip flops! I told him it was a helluva long way to the beach!
Great Britain is a land steeped in history and traditions that can be traced back to the mists of time and yet most of our public holidays are boringly called "bank" holidays. Why? I mean - who cares about banks or bankers or banking? After all it's only money. I was with Jesus 100% when he got bloody angry and upturned the moneylenders' tables. Damned Pharisees! Our public holidays should be given names that matter - as in America with its Memorial Day, its Independence Day, its Martin Luther King Day etc.. How about Robin Hood Day? 1966 World Cup Memorial Day? We Stuffed the Jerries in Two World Wars Day? Other suggestions will be gratefully received.
We have seen both of our offspring this weekend. Ian stayed over before heading up to Glasgow to visit an old school friend who has had the shadow of death hanging over him for a couple of years now because of leukemia. At great expense to the NHS, he has recently received stem cell treatment and his future hangs in the balance at only twenty eight years of age. He's also called Tom. Frances, on the other hand, is excited that her steady progress as a recruitment consultant will soon see her taking possession of a company car. We went to look at Minis this afternoon. Mmm..maybe!
On Saturday I was out walking again, just east of Buxton in the High Peak and from that pleasant country ramble I have selected another five pictures to share with you. As the bishop said to the actress - "Click to enlarge"....
|Old limestone barn near Tunstead|
|View of an old barn above Peter Dale|
|The vast limestone quarries near Tunstead|
|A blast shelter on the quarry rim|
|St Margaret's Church in Wormhill|