Frances, Stew and Baby Phoebe are flying to Canada tomorrow. On my advice they've booked a hotel room down in Luton for tonight. This means that tomorrow's car journey to Heathrow Airport will be much shorter and thereby far less stressful than it would have been.
To facilitate their journey even further, this afternoon I took mama and the heavenly babe to a "Costa" coffee shop at Sutton in Ashfield, close to the M1, twenty miles south of Sheffield. There we met up with Stew whose workplace is close by. Assisting in this way meant that Stew did not have to factor in his usual journey back to Sheffield. They could just carry on south.
This morning, I was able to fit in a two hour country walk in familiar territory close to the village of Hathersage in The Hope Valley. It was a beautiful early autumn day - so clear and colourful and fresh. I took several pictures of a farm called Broadhay and three of those images accompany this blogpost.
Just as I was setting off on the walk with my camera still slung over my shoulder in its case, a fellow in a pick up truck reversed back to talk to me. He lives at the adjacent farm. Still sitting in his vehicle he asked me what I planned to take photos of.
"The countryside," I said.
"You're not taking pictures of my farm are you?"
"No. I wasn't planning to. Why is it not allowed?"
"It's my house and I don't want people taking photos of it!"
"Right. Okay," I said.
In England the law says that when in a public area or on a road or public footpath photos may be taken of anything at all - houses, farms, historic sites or even military installations. There are no restrictions - unless there are people in the picture.
I knew that already. I just needed to placate that grumpy fellow. Now I am going to have to send him the relevant legal information about photographers' rights. I don't want him to err again by confronting other country ramblers in that same wrongful manner. I think he will probably rage when he opens the letter but honestly, I don't care.