By myself again today. There was a little more energy in my legs than yesterday, and I had a fancy to sit up somewhere high and look down on my kingdom, so, as the ugly blue train bridge is the highest place that's close to my house, that's where I headed.
These stairs don't bother me at all now. I used to walk the longer way into town to avoid them, but I don't need to do that anymore because I am mighty! Also, I'm not pushing a double pram these days and trailing three children along with me, so that helps.
So I climbed up onto the pipe and arranged myself so that I could drink my water, take photos and generally feel a bit superior.
That's not the castle you can see on the hill, by the way. That's where the castle is, but the trees have grown up all around it so that the castle itself is hidden. What you can see is the Priory, that big old church I showed you a few weeks ago.
Here, just to prove that I did sit on the pipes, my feet.
And the silty banks of the River Lune. And the block of flats at a place called the Red Cross. And beyond, the worthy estates of Newton and the Ridge, gently merging with the town of Lancaster itself, encompassing many other equally worthy estates such as Scotforth (pronounced scot-f'uth in a Lancashire accent), Greaves and Bowerham (pronounced baow-r'um). Behold, a small piece of my kingdom. Hey nonny nonny.
I'm glad we have a quay. I like it. It's a very tiny one compared to many, but it just looks so old and ... historic. That's my jam, man! I'm not a historian, of course, being just an 'umble editor. But the books I read tend to be set in some other century than the present, so I'm always in another time in my head. Maybe that suggests a deep psychological issue, but I'm not really bothered.
I zoomed in on the Priory, just because. And actually, I think I'm wrong about not being able to see the castle; I think the bit on the right, with the cranellations, is part of the castle because the church doesn't have those. Either way, it's still cool that we have a castle at all. I'd like to live in it. I've always felt I was born in the wrong time – I think a lot of people say that. People who love history tend to have their favourite period, and mine is quite a long one, sort of most of the 18th century and a bit of the 19th. I think this is completely influenced by the romantic notions that have been fed to me by certain authors that I love, but there was an awful lot going on in this country and France and the New World in those decades. Dangerous times to be alive, of course – but when has that ever not been the case? As we have proof today.
Often, when I'm thinking about bygone times that I didn't even witness, I start talking to myself. I says to myself, this evenin', 'marry, mistress, shalt we venture forth to the quay and survey the abodes, verily?' 'Why, yes!' says I, 'we must do that very thing!' So it was decided, by me and myself, that we should stay out a while longer and take a little more air.
But first, we wondered what it looked like over the railings. Lawks a mercy! That's why people don't jump from this particular bridge for fun.
Right, I'll stop that now, mainly because I don't know enough 18th-century vernacular to keep it up for very long. In fact, I don't really know any with any accuracy and I'm probably just making a fool of myself. Also, I keep having an urge to write 'Good lord, Mary Poppins' for no reason.
So, quick as a wit, I was down onto the quay and very pleased to find that the floodgates had been opened. These are literal floodgates, not figurative ones – they are here to hold back the flood waters, and they were closed at the beginning of the lockdown. Finding them open, obviously, as any right-minded person would, I walked this way instead of by the road. Very pleasant indeed.
This way, on the river side of the railings, is the way I used to walk to school, like a rebel.
Hopping over things like this. I wonder if this ring is hundreds of years old, or whether it's not as old as it looks, and it's just weathered and was only put here in the 1970s. I don't suppose I'll ever know.
This evening, the air was thick with history and ghosts and memories that were not my own. It's so delicious to stroll down here on a fine, still night, daydreaming about who might have worked and lived in our town over the centuries – millennia, even.
In fact, I know who lived here, precisely in the period that I mentioned as my favourite. My Rawlinson ancestors, who I've briefly mentioned before. But I'll lay it bare here for you, because it's not pretty. They were slave traders. Quaker slave traders, in fact, which is rather surprising because I didn't know that was a thing. I used to think that they just provided the ships and were a step removed from the trade, but no, they were the primary slave traders in the area. Here, evidence. So now you know. It's all out in the open and there are no secrets between us any longer.
I wasn't actually thinking about all of that nasty business on my walk this evening, so, moving on! I was admiring the buildings, thinking how lovely it would be to own one. Obviously, they weren't built as housing, they were built for storage, as warehouses and such. I know there are secret smuggling tunnels and caches underground around here, as I'm sure there will be at any port. But I'd still like to live in one because they've been renovated and modernised. It would just be the coolest thing to be able to buy this gorgeous place.
I particularly love this window, with it's ... I want to say winch. Is it a winch? Or a ... err, pulley? Whatever it is, I like it. This building has been turned into flats, but I wouldn't want to live in a flat – dammit, I'd want the whole building to myself!
I didn't take anymore photos because I just wandered down the quay in a very leisurely fashion and feasted my eyes until they were full. I can do this when I'm alone; not so much when Matthew's with me because he has a lot of questions and stories. That's also great, but it's nice just to be quiet sometimes.
Eventually, I did go home. Not back across the ugly blue train bridge, because the Millennium Bridge was just here. Funny how I'd never really noticed before that this is all that's holding this bridge up, some cables. Cool.
Ahh, nice. There are lots of quays in the world, but this one is ours and I love it.
Still strolling, still looking fondly at those warehouses, I was slowly making my way back when something caught my eye. Lo! the hunter!
Its jaws clamped firmly around the mouse it had just caught, it moved not a muscle as it watched to see if I would attempt to steal its meal. Sorry, iPhone zoom and light issues mean that you can't really see the mouse, but I could. After a minute or two, the hunter gently placed the mouse on the ground but didn't take its eyes off me. The threat of me seemed to be more of a priority than the promise of food.
And then, the mouse, sensing a possible chance to escape, sat up and waited. It must have known that certain death was the inevitable conclusion if it tried to scarper too soon. A daring gamble, little mouse, very daring.
But I couldn't stand here all night, staring out a cold-blooded murderer. I started to walk away, but just as I did, the mouse legged it and the hunter was distracted, not knowing where to look or who to blame. I stopped and watched a little longer to see if the mouse would win this day. Alas, here you see the hunter adjusting itself on its haunches, ready to pounce. And pounce it did, fast and accurate. The mouse was caught and I could not save it again.
Home again, feeling both refreshed and relaxed. This was a good walk. I'm feeling the benefit now, very much. Wherever I walk, or for however long, it allows my head to clear completely and any stress I've been carrying has just fallen away. It's amazing. And I'm starting to feel stronger, maybe even as strong as I felt in my twenties. Alright, late twenties. Fine, early thirties. But that's not half bad, eh, for 43? Certainly can't complain.
The road was busy tonight, by the way – I actually had to wait to cross it, which is a thing that hasn't happened for many weeks now. I hope there isn't a collective relaxing of the national consciousness about lockdown measures, because that would be bad.
WQ
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