The Woman Who Went Up a Hill and Came Down a Hill

Some evenings, especially when I've left it very late, I don't really feel like walking. Or rather, I do, but I can't think of anywhere new to go and the walk is in danger of becoming tedious. 

I came out of my house tonight and stood at the end of my drive for a few minutes, thinking, 'erm, I dunno ... left or right? I dunno ...' I randomly chose left and started walking, with no view at all as to where I might end up. 

I started taking photos, again, randomly. Oh look, some white jasmine. Nice. What else? 

Oh look, the moon. Nice. What else? 

I came to the end of my street, which, admittedly, doesn't take very long, possibly 40 seconds, when I saw this incredibly unusual sight – an empty road. Oh. But this empty road, usual as it was, gave me another choice, which was nice. I could go off up the hill towards Torrisholme, which I didn't really want to do because that's where we went yesterday, or I could go the other way (which is actually behind me from the perspective of this photo) and see where that took me. So my decision was made for me, really. I turned right round and went off to ... what I think was the east. 

This way leads to the park, though, and I didn't want to go there again because that's where we went a couple of days ago. Oh dear, I was going to end up just wandering around aimlessly, which I suppose is absolutely fine because at least it's still exercise. And perhaps metaphoric of the way our lives are at the moment.

To change things up a little, I walked on the opposite side of the road (I am so sorry, it was a real struggle to find inspiration this evening, but bear with me ... actually, it doesn't really get any better). I like this side because it's a narrow pavement and you have to brush past the shrubbery. Not cool for toddlers, but fine for adults.

Just a little further and there's a junction, and that's where I finally decided where to go. Up Margaret's hill. It's not called that, but it's where my mum's cousin Margaret used to live. Margaret's gone home to Scotland now but this will still always be Margaret's hill.

Here it is. Just a normal little hill. Wait a minute, you can't really see it ...

Is it better with a flash? Hmmm, probably not, but you can at least tell that there's an incline. I cheated, as I think I always do on this hill – not that I walk this way very often because it doesn't actually lead anywhere. But I cheated, because I know that the incline from the east to the west is less steep than the incline on the other side. And now that I've said that, I'm going to have to make myself climb up the hill from other side some time because that's how confessions work. 

I reached the top with exceptional ease because it's not very far. I was rewarded by the sight of a couple of these splendid and very stylish stone lions guarding someone's property. Aren't they nice? Mm-hmm. So stylish.

Ten seconds later and I was already at the other side of the crest of the hill – it's really small! But it's quite cute, no, that it was built upon rather than being bulldozed through and flattened. And I suppose, being a hill, you can fit more houses on it than if it was flat. 

Hell's teeth, I'm really clutching at straws for writing material this evening, eh?

So I didn't go very far from home at all, but the short walk still served its purpose of allowing me to clear my mind, stretch my legs and breathe a little fresh air. Job done. Plus, from the top of the hill, you can see Morecambe. I reckon it would be pretty nice to live in one of these houses with that view.   

At the bottom of hill live Uncle Franco and Auntie Angela Magliocco. They're cousins of the Italian half of my family, which is made up of the Nardones and the Macaris. There are a lot of other names on the Italian side, but the Macaris are particularly famous in these parts for being the ice cream people, and they've been selling ice cream here since 1935, which is a lovely thing. Yes, we have always been able to get free ice cream from the vans, which is also a lovely thing. 

Here's my cousin Marco (I don't know how many times removed or to which degree because there are loads of cousins, and that's not surprising at all). Alright, Marco? I pinched your picture off the internet – hope you don't mind! When I'm rich and famous with my blog, I'll make sure you get a cut.

Until tomorrow, my 99s-with-flakes.

WQ