We had no choice but to do a very quick walk on Thursday, and it so happened that the walk was exactly the right length. I'd put a chicken, ham and leek pie in the oven, you see, and we had to back in time to make sure it hadn't burnt. I did ask James to check on it, but James is not gifted in the culinary arts ... yet. Anyway, it didn't matter, because we were back just as the pie was done to perfection. I can't show you what it looked like because a) we ate it too quickly and b) this isn't Instagram – if you want pictures of food, you'll have to see if Gordon Ramsay has a blog.
For our quick walk, we drove to Ryelands park. Yes, we drove ... to the park ... the one that's less than half a mile from our house. I know this is terrible, but we were against the clock and it was either this or a very dull walk up and down our street for half an hour, and our neighbours already think we're weird. So we chose the park. We don't often choose the park because, well, it's just not a great park. It could be, but it isn't.
We parked around here, near the scary building where I thought I saw a face in the window that one time:
Without a minute to lose, we chose our direction – there are only two – and marched off to the bottom of the park. The mission was to make it all the way around the perimeter path quicker than it takes a pie to crust to brown, but slow enough to allow for photos. I did take some photos while on the move so there might be a bit of blurring.
The building's not scary at all during the day, is it? Quite nice, in fact. We didn't stop to admire the building, though, no time.
Onwards! We tried to identify a few trees as we walked, and this one was definitely an apple tree. I know this because they're pretty easy to spot. What you might also notice is that the grass is getting very long. I'm kind of liking that the grass is getting to breathe and stretch and grow this year. It won't be allowed to do that next year.
It's much prettier though, don't you think, long grass? I think so.
There's a closed-down school across the road, hidden by those trees. I wonder what they'll do with those buildings. Pretty criminal, really, to close a school instead of investing in it and helping it to improve. That has nothing to do with my walk, but these thoughts do always occur to me when I walk past Skerton School.
By the time we got here, we'd done two corners of the park, but it's not anything like a square and these two corners are very close together. That's the way into town, but no time for that today.
Here's the scary building from the other side, and a couple of football pitches that can't possibly be used for football right now, what with the grass being halfway up a person's shins. It was around this area that I started to feel a bit more friendly towards the park. It was very hot, so we stopped for a quick drink of water, and I looked around me at the variety of trees and the masses of greenness and I realised that it's all actually quite pretty. I mean, it really is a rubbish park, because all of its guts have been removed; it used to have a lovely bandstand ... actually, that was the only good thing it had. It did have a couple of tennis courts and a pavilion where you could buy drinks and sweets, but they were never properly maintained and always looked forlorn and unloved. Now there's just the scary building, a car park and a badly maintained play area for toddlers during the day and teenagers at night.
But maybe it's better now that it's mostly just trees and grass.
Here's Our Lady's Catholic College (it's a high school), which has not been closed down because it's doing just fine. I wonder if the kids at this school are sad that Skerton School closed – there was a legendary rivalry between the two schools for decades. I wonder if Our Lady's kids feel like they won.
This photo here shows you almost the whole park, apart from the corner with the scary building in it. See, it's really tiny.
I have it in my mind that this path didn't used to be here. I'm sure it was added to make the park feel a bit safer at night, because people used to cut across the grass in the pitch dark to get to Ryelands estate.
That's the ugly blue train bridge and one of the ways back to our house. But we couldn't just go that way because you'll recall that we'd brought the car! Also, why would we want to when we had half of the park left to get round?
Some people might call this a hill. We didn't call it a hill because we are mighty! And also, it's clearly not a hill.
But when you get to the peak of the not-a-hill, you reach the railway and the top of Ryelands estate. I also have it in my head that those railings didn't used to be there, like in the '80s, so it was much easier to get onto the railway. That was probably why we had rail safety talks at school that scared the bejeezus out of me when I was five. Of course, I could've made all of that up because I dreamt it or just remembered wrong.
It's very pretty at the top of the park, and I don't remember ever walking up here so I've never seen how pretty it is. I'll freely admit that it's because I've been lazy for most of my life and I used to call this a hill. There's a bench up here and I think I would be very happy to bring a book and a flask and have some quiet time to myself one day.
This is the very top of the park, and there's sometimes a horse or a pony grazing here. There used to be a play area for bigger kids, with a taller climbing frame and a bigger slide and scarier swings. I can remember people trying to get their swings to go right over the top. I never managed it, but I didn't get thrillingly high. That was awesome! It's a shame it was all take down.
This little corner is where Matthew and I sometimes emerge when we come into the park from one of the non-official entrances. Looking very meadow-like, isn't it?
Still very quiet out. I think the people of Lancaster are remaining cautious, on the whole; this was a warm evening and we saw no one on the park – it's usually bursting with people playing football and walking their dogs when it's fine out.
Aha! We got a bit closer to a squirrel today, and it stayed still for us as well. Aren't they handsome? Honestly, I've no idea if they're nice in real life or whether they'd try to eat your face off if they got close enough. But they're still handsome.
We were on the home straight when we saw the squirrel and the car was in sight. We'd taken 20 minutes to walk 1.2 miles, which isn't all that fast really, but I never said we were speedy.
'Matthew,' says I, 'whenever you see three trees standing together, do you think of them as being three brothers?' 'Yep,' says he, 'always think that.' 'Yeah, me too,' says I. And we stopped for a minute to decide which was Thomas, which was James and which was Matthew. And then I said, 'There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight ...' because that's what I always say when someone mentions three brothers.
The pie was perfect and delicious and there was enough for seconds. I will not take photos next time because I'm just not that type of girl.
Until tomorrow, tree huggers,
WQ
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