Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. Well that is what Noel Coward once sang and he was probably right.
On Saturday I was over in Beverley taking photos of my old friend Tony and Pauline - his girlfriend of five years - ahead of their winter wedding. Afterwards, I headed back over the Yorkshire Wolds and parked in the tiny village of South Cliffe ready to undertake a planned seven mile walk.
But I had not planned the 32 degree heat. It was the hottest day of the year so far in The People's Republic of Yorkshire. As I left Clint, he was grumbling. "I'm gonna fry bo! Fry I tell ya!"
|The ruins of Duck Nest. Hotham Carrs|
Sensibly, I had applied suncream to my arms, head and legs before setting off. The walk was mostly through farmland on the edge of The Vale of York and then on to the village of Hotham and along a long farm track to remote Cliffe Dales Farm where a sunbathing mother and her teenage daughter came out to quieten their barking hound - whose name was Bob. I asked if this slavering creature was named after the famous Georgia blogger - Bob Brague but their reply was negative. Astonishingly, they had never even heard of Bob Brague!
When I got back to Clint I was like a French legionnaire who had just made it back to his fort after a week in the desert. I unlocked Clint's boot (American:trunk) and grabbed the water flask within. That cold water descended to my belly like oxygen filling a vacuum. Ahhhh! Lovely.
|White horse at Cliffe Dales Farm|