Monthly Archives: January 2011

The Crocs of Brock!

Anyone who knows Brock Bottoms on the outskirts of Preston will know what a divine place it is.

I remember once going down for a walk along the river and the most wonderful person had been down there and left a trail. Every few yards along the path were fairies – peering out of flowers, illuminated in jam jars, hiding in trees, it was simply magical. Even barring the fairies, however, it is a lovely place and scene of one of those cringeing moments in my life.

I was out late one night with my first boyfriend, driving test recently passed and we had parked up in the car park. In those days it was not a formal one, covered in tarmac but a mud bath! We got stuck, wheels spun, we were covered in slutch. We couldn’t see a thing and finally around 11pm had to find a phone, call my Dad and beg to be rescued! Oh the shame. I could never be considered cool thereafter.

Jeepers Skeechers where d'ya leave those creepers?

This pic was taken by @markymarkf whose flickr stream is well worth a visit if you’ve not already seen them.

The Crocs craze really amazed me, not least the number of manufacturers who have followed suit in a similar vein – here the Skechers option, obviously so well loved that it was left in a field at the aforementioned Brock Bottoms!

I was always a wooden clogs gal so the idea of some rubber imitation was an appalling idea but hey who am I to judge (ahem!)? My friends and relatives swear by them.

For really good clogs, however, you could do worse than look at these beauties from Denmark! I bought my sister some of the high heeled ones for Christmas and she says they’re the most comfortable shoes she’s ever worn!



Pet owners – don’t lose your sense of dignity!

Another fine offering from @kathwalkerart and a repeated bete noire of mine – a reason to stand once again on my own personal soapbox.

Unfortunate Glovey-poo

From time to time my husband fondly calls me a venomous, old bag when I pontificate about my pet hates (and he is right to do so) but this really is one!

Bloody pet owners!

What gets my goat more oft than not is that they confuse my impatience with them, and their odd ways, as disliking their animals! Au contraire people, it’s you who infuriates me, not the cutesy wutesy, yappy, mangy, glandysmeary, territory spraying furball clamped to your side! I love dogs, end of.

And despite what I say,  in jest, to annoy friends who are cat owners, I do like cats, especially my sister’s three (which are more like dogs) and @otoolealexandra‘s, which seem to talk. I’m not buying the whole cats are independent line, however, I just think they’re not about to hang about waiting for food when some other neighbour will gladly throw them some rainbow trout. And I don’t think they’re picky about their food. It’s vapid owners’ faults, who insist on feeding them better food than their one year old child! No wonder the cats then turn their noses up at Mr Cat or Felix or whatever slippery, sick-smelling ‘food’ they’re offered. I do, however, grossly dislike the way cats always home in on the one person who doesn’t want to have their cheek gland smeared all over their leg. Yes I know it’s a sign of affection and territory marking yadda yadda but it’s not cute, it’s just really, really annoying! And more to the point – they eat birds..far more annoying. Two pouches of Kitekat and a blue tit chaser…simply not acceptable. And they aren’t loyal. Be fair people, when has a poem ever been written in stone up a Lakeland Fell about a cat that sat on its dead owner’s grave until its own death??

Gosh that really was rant-central, I do apologise and digress – for this post is specifially about dog owners. I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but UK policy these days is that when your dog fouls, you pick up the stuff and chuck it in the bin. Consequently one of three things then happens in reality.

1. Dog fouls, owner picks up crap in bag and deposits in bin.

2. Dog fouls, owner picks up crap in bag and hangs it off the nearest tree or shrub.

3. Dog fouls, owner ignores the law and leaves it in situ for me to stand in and gag as soon as I notice only once I’ve sat in the car and smeared it all over the plush interior.

It was easier in the days when dogs just ate bones and you readily saw the pile of white seemingly fossilised crap in advance! These days, however, we’re not so fortunate.

So I do implore owners, please be aware that while you love your fish smelling feline and your doting dog that others of us out there don’t share your love of its antics….not because we dislike your pet per se but because you have created a scenario which allows for a perceived, negative reaction towards your pet – because you won’t accept responsibility yourself for its actions!

No surprise that the owner of this glove chose not to pick it up!

And before responsible owners start being outraged – I don’t mean you, I mean the ones who aren’t responsible.

PS The recent cold spell killed all my pond fish so I am very sensitive to pet issues at present…despite what some of you might think! Others are doubtless thinking, miserable old cow doesn’t deserve a pet – you’re probably right.

I think I’m hormonal today – but that was strangely cathartic!

Lost in Sedbergh

Our first walk of the year and a new destination for the gang – Sedbergh. As Rick is now firmly settled into his weekday accommodation we took the opportunity to go and wander round the town – and what a delightful surprise.

Sedbergh is a book town, I read on the welcoming sign….passing just too swiftly for me to digest the twinning situation, but swearing blindly that it had said twinned with Srebrenica. OMG I thought, that doesn’t make me think of anything nice in the first instant, and certainly does not fit with the fabulous views of rolling fells from every angle. It isn’t, of course, it’s twinned with Zrece, in Slovenia, not that Srebrenica would have been a bad thing, but for a split second I was wondering.

And what a great town for lost stuff.

Somewhere between Ingmire Hall and the Nature Reserve

Our walk circumnavigated the town I think. We walked through the grounds of Sedbergh School – now firmly on my wish list for Design Force this year. And then we wandered by the river, past a disused iron bridge which should be restored – it is utterly heavenly and immediately had me trying to recall the name Isambard Kingdom Brunel…thinking wrongly that he built the Iron Bridge – and randomly shouting names aloud like Jebediah Springfield, Obadiah whatever and Jeremiah the other before realising my mistake – but you get the picture….I am nothing if not crap at history and recalling the wrong person to the scene in hand!

Outside the School of Music

Then we headed along the nature reserve until ultimately rejoining the main road into town whereupon both mine and my husband’s feet gave out. How can three weeks over Christmas render your body utterly stuffed??? Can we be so unfit so quickly? How much terbutaline sulphate can one set of lungs take in one walk????

Heading towards Bainbridge Road

Anyway we rounded off the day by taking a very late lunch or perhaps an early dinner in the fabulous Dalesman pub. What a wonderful pub. Nobody has tried to make it a visual crapathon by getting in some twee interior designer who’s never sat in an actual pub and had a pint, no, this has proper decor. It’s warm and cosy, the staff are friendly and helpful, they serve a proper pint and the food is just the ticket for a post walk nosh-up. It’s what the Lakes has come to lack. Nobody elected for some crass dish like trout in a juniper jus because there was no such fayre on offer – instead we ate fish, chips and the best mushy peas I’ve ever eaten, steak and ale pie, chicken, pizza and burgers. Then we all went home and crashed out……how old are we? I was asleep by 9pm literally too shattered to go and have a bath – minger!

So Sedbergh…….a lovely discovery, can’t wait to go back and as regards the lost stuff – well it’s the town that just keeps giving!

Does she think I'm mad?

Every little helps……

Another classic sent in by Hannah Coleman from @dreamwalls.

I’ve only had a multiple loss through the viewfinder once before and that was the banner across the top of this site, which is actually the wall as you walk through the fields to Malham Cove – an unplanned lost property dump for every glove lost on that walk.

A wall of gloves from Hannah Coleman

This find was at the Tesco‘s in Cleethorpes – a trio of misladen beauties.

I was having a chat with @lightbulbdesign the other night on twitter, who was bemoaning a lack of supermarket of any size in Holmfirth, and, bet me that we had one here in Preston. Au contraire, we have Booths – the height of supermarket begreatedness! We do have Asda (but i never go unless in disguise) and Sainsbury’s without which I could not live, but are looking forward to the rumour that Waitrose is coming to be pronounced as being true. I’ll be broke forever more but hey ho.

Cheers Hannah – keep ’em coming!

What do you think of 2011 so far? Rubbish!

After seemingly a fortnight confined to the house slobbing around and doing absolutely nothing, we finally ventured out today and took a drive to Morecambe…..awash with discarded gloves!

The first one had the Midland Hotel in the background – an homage to the 1920s by all accounts. I’m keen to go for afternoon tea or Sunday lunch but my other half has heard negative reports about price versus quality…….how can I persuade him otherwise? Someone give me positive feedback!

Knitted red glove!

The fabulous Midland Hotel in the background.

I wish someone would transport the English Riviera climate to Morecambe, it has some seriously beautiful buildings and breathtaking views across Morecambe Bay to the Lakes.  If nothing else you should try the Morecambe Bay Walk. It’s alarmingly warm in that estuary…I’m sure nothing to do with the bloody great power station at its mouth..ahem.

Mini magic black glove

Here was offering number 2, about 50 yards further on along the same beach. It was tiny tiny tiny but not in a child’s glove sort of way, like those gloves you used to be able to buy about 20 years ago which were made of some sort of elastane I guess. They were about 2 inches long in the packet but then when you tried to get your hand inside they grew to fit!

The final gloves….seen abandoned on the slipway – proper working gloves…do they count I wonder? They might possibly not have been abandoned.