|The war memorial in Ulley|
Yesterday I strolled for six miles - just beyond the eastern fringes of Sheffield.
I parked Clint safely in Aston on Church Lane, took an almighty swig of water from my flask and set off. I had not walked in that particular area for seven years.
My route took me past a small wind farm. I stood below one of the mighty wind turbines and heard the insistent, unearthly whooshing of the blades. A thought occurred to me... How much fossil fuel is utilised in the manufacture, erection and maintenance of a wind turbine? How long is it before that environmental "cost" is paid off by the revolution of the turbine's blades? If you know the answer please tell.
On to the charming little village of Ulley with its delightful little church. This village was home to the "strictest pub in England" according to "The Daily Mirror". No motorbikers were allowed in and there was a strict dress code. No baseball caps or trainers or skimpy dresses and there was no ambient music. If heard by the staff, swearing could get you barred. "The Royal Oak" was still open to customers in July of this year but now it appears closed for good. There are three massive rocks at the only entrance to the car park. It is always sad when a pub dies, even a strict one.
As I returned to Church Lane, I could hear Clint snoring but when I pressed the "unlock" button on my key fob he woke up. I think the rogue had been dreaming about those cute little Fiats again.
I drank more water and headed home to make our evening meal which was of course ready when Shirley returned from the health centre. I made two lovely bramble crumbles using fruit picked from the bushes at the bottom of our garden. One for us and one for Catherine and her two girls. They live right across the road from us.