I remember the long hot drive to Robin Hoods Bay a few summers ago. It was so hot in the car that I had the window open. I had no air conditioning and the temperature was rising steadily. My right arm was being burnt by the morning sun as we crept our way slowly North and East through Yorkshire. Its a large English County and full of cities, towns and villages, but also farmland and moors.
We visited a cottage in Robin Hoods Bay. It was upside down, with the bedrooms on the ground and basement floors, and the living room upstairs. The photo is my painting of the view from the living room. We spent a lovely few days visiting landmarks and beaches, but at the end I became very tired and aching, I thought I had bad sunburn… It turned out I had shingles. It was a memorable trip, but not necessarily for the right reasons!
Today’s #30daysketchbookchallenge prompt was back to school so I did this…
Can anyone remember having to do lines? I know I used to write with three pens, but I think I was just playing after seeing the idea in a comic like the Beano or Dandy….
On my Facebook memories. One of our old cats plus a painting I did of him. I can’t help but notice the similarity between him and our outdoor cat.
Cats come and go, but most of the ones we have had have been black and white ‘tuxedo cats’.
Why? Most of our cats were strays or rescue cats when we got them. Perhaps there is a cat family in the area, maybe they have the same antecedents? Certainly this cat could be the father of our new cat, or related in some way. I’m glad they came to us and sad that we lost this one. He passed away about nine years ago and might have been poisoned by antifreeze. He went missing and when we found him he was already dead. Such a shock. I miss him.
A song for the Apple Tree. To an ancient tune….thanks to my friend Bruce for the words!
Old Apple Tree, We are Come to Wassail Thee
Old Apple tree, we are come to wassail thee,
All for to bloom, and to bear thy flowers and fruit so free.
Wassail! wassail! all round our town;
Our cups are white and our ale is brown.
Our bowl is made of a good ashen tree,
And here’s kind fellows as will drink to thee.
Hats full, caps full, five-bushel bags full,
Barns full, floors full, stables full, tallats full,
And the little hole under the stairs, three times three!
Hip, hip, hurrah! shout we.
Lockdown, I can only go out for exercise and do essential shopping.
But when you think about it, it’s not that bad. I’m not stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere with no one to talk to. I am warm, I have food, I cn talk to people on the phone or online. I might be getting a bit bored. But it’s not like in the past, when I was a child. On Sundays everywhere was closed. No one that worked in simple, low paid jobs, could afford a car. Very few eople had tv’s and there was only one channel and a few radio stations. Computers didn’t exist except in universities or in the armed forces. The air was dirty and polluted, coal fires were the norm to heat houses. It was a different world.
Now we are linked? Possibly too much. But if we stay away from each other as much as we can? Things might just get better…
I was talking to a friend who had got caught in the tide coming in at Boggle Hole a few years ago and I remembered our adventure (not).
Boggle Hole is a small valley on the North Yorkshire coast. There is a Youth Hostel there. A couple of miles north is the pretty (but steep) village of Robin Hoods Bay.
We decided to walk along the beach to the village for a drink and evening meal. We knew we had to be back at Boggle Hole hostel before it locked up for the night. I kept saying we needed to go, and eventually we left the pub. We realised if we climbed the hill and walked along the cliff path it would take too long, so we decided to walk along the beach. This is made up of large slabs of rock and sand. The slabs slope slightly with the bits closest to the land dipping down. A stream runs out of the Boggle Hole valley and then north along the beach then out to sea.
It was starting to get dark and the tide was coming in. We walked, then started to jog. The water was now ankle height so we walked further out where the rock slabs were higher. The stream was backfilling as the seawater ran along it, and it was getting very dark. My hubby had a torch, and we decided to go on as we would never get to the hostel in time.
Suddenly the water was coming in really fast. The water was up to my waist and very cold. My hubby was wading thigh deep as he is a lot taller than me. A glimmer of moonshine showed the headland, we just had to get round it and then we would be on dry land! But the rock dipped down as we waded towards the valley. The stream bed was lower and we had to ford it…..
I was chest deep and starting to panic. Hubby was not much better off. Much more of this and we would have to swim… But the ground was rising as we waded. Soon we were out, freezing and soaking wet. We ran up the path to the hostel and got back with minutes to spare!
After drying off we slept soundly and went back down to the beach as the sun rose. The beautiful sunrise to the East was disturbed by a crashing sound…. Bits of cliff were falling off as the sun dried the earth! That part of the Yorkshire coast is notorious for crumbling. The cliffs are mostly blue mudstone called Blue Lias, where dinosaur bones and ammonites among other things are uncovered by winter storms.
We were young and healthy but I have heard of other people getting caught out at Boggle Hole, but it was a memorable visit!
The boat is probably about 90 years old? The painting of my hubby is about forty years old. You know you are getting on when things you own start to age with you!
Time passes, faster it seems as you get older. Ten years just flew by. I have so much stuff that I have collected over the years. I wish it was displayed beautifully… But its not.
Visiting my friend in Yorkshire in 2011 just after he moved their. I can’t believe it’s so long ago.
In fact I remember the day we’ll. We went to sit by the river at Salts Mill and called in a riverside pub. We were looking over a cricket pitch and the wooded hills in the background. It was a hot sunny day. I love sketching instead of just taking photos….
Lock at Etruria, steps up to the road and over a bridge at the top. When the snow is thick I actually think its easier to walk in than when it’s like this. Slushy and slippery. But snow doesn’t last that long these days. Last year was as hot as 2016, which was the hottest year on record in the UK.
It would be good to take a long walk along the canal in the summer. Under dappled shade from the trees. Watching canal barges and boats putter past with their gaudily painted castles, and roses painted red, gold and green.
Old hands hold tight, remember smooth skin when we first met. Remember missing you when you went away. Riding a motor scooter forty miles to go home for the summer, and you cycled after me.
Smelling blossom when we walked home to the student flats. A stolen kiss. Our history, together. The cats we’ve owned, the cycle rides. Buying a tandem, selling a tandem because the chain kept falling off.
Camping at minus 7 near Clitheroe. Snowy nights. Two pairs of trousers and three jumpers under canvas. Bike trailers and cycle clubs.
Life keeps going. Work, houses, learning. We keep together, stay together.