Stop the press! News sensation! Read all about it! Your intrepid correspondent has been for another walk!
Yesterday I parked Clint in the peaceful hamlet of Oxton Rakes west of Chesterfield. There are only five house there but each one is substantial - built of stone and they enjoy big gardens, driveways with gates and various outbuildings.
One of the first things I noticed was two creamy white alpacas in a meadow. I always find this an odd sight as alpacas belong in the foothills of the Andes mountains in South America. These two had recently been shorn so with winter approaching I felt a little sorry for them and wondered why the shears had not been used in the middle of our gorgeous summer.
Then the plodding began and your intrepid correspondent moved across the landscape like a beetle. I had a circular route in mind and at first the light was splendid but soon a massive grey cloud eased westwards from Chesterfield and an hour into the walk I found myself sheltering beneath a hawthorn tree as sheets of cold rain stabbed downwards like mini-stilettos. And I swear there were icy beads in that rain shower too.
|The southern suburbs of Sheffield were visible on the horizon|
It only lasted ten minutes but as the grey blanket moved on, I looked at my watch, thought about how far I had travelled and decided to alter my planned route - knocking off a little more than a mile.
When I got to the head of an old track called Oxton Rakes Road, I noticed a stone in the middle of a grassy field and climbed over a nearby gate to investigate. It was a parish boundary stone defining the limit of the parish of Brampton. I waited for another pesky cloud to drift away - thereby allowing sunshine to illuminate this ancient stone.
|Mauricio the Alpaca|
Of course Oxton Rakes Road leads to Oxton Rakes and as I passed the alpaca field the creatures came to greet me as if I was a long lost friend or another alpaca. It was probably the highlight of their day and a welcome relief from their constant grazing.
Unusually, I stopped at a nearby pub for a pint of "Black Sheep" and a bag of "Mini Cheddars". I read my book in the empty pub warmth before saddling up Clint once again and riding home into the sunset that was arriving an hour too early. Changing the clocks twice a year is very stupid.
|Selfie - I am waving to you.|