Turns out that the sign itself is the only shady bit. The lane isn’t really shady at all. That's my car, not in the shade. It could do with a wash, that car.
It transpired that I don't know my way around Bolton-le-Sands at all. In fact, I don't even know if it's Bolton-le-Sands or Hest Bank. These are probably two of those places that started off as teeny little villages in 879 or something, and the families in one village arranged marriages for their sons and daughters with the sons and daughters of the other village, and the villages grew and grew until they joined together without realising in 1746, but ever after kept their separate names.
I've just found a wicked website that I'm going to use to feed you interesting historical facts, until such time as I forget (like I did with the birdsong one) and we move on to something else. This one tells us that, on this day in 1066, William, Duke of Normandy, landed at Pevensey Bay and began his invasion of England. Course, if you look at the link on another day, it'll tell you something else. This has nothing to do with our walk, but I went down a time travel rabbit hole and thought I'd share what I found with you.
Next, we accidentally went into someone's garden. This path leads to some memorial graves, so I assumed we could follow it all the way through to somewhere else. Instead, we met a nice lady who was sitting in her garden, enjoying a book and a cup of tea in the sunshine. She didn't mind that we'd turned up in her garden, and I suspect she's used to it. She pointed us back the right way, anyway, and told us to enjoy our walk, which was nice.
All the way back down the lady's driveway, Matthew was saying, 'I knew that was someone's drive', and I was saying, 'why didn't you tell me??'
For such a small place, Bolton-le-Sands/Hest Bank has a lot of churches. I have no opinion on that, as an atheist; it's just an observation. We came back to this observation in a round about way just a few minutes later.
Down the next road, we saw the most unlikely looking pub – the Blue Anchor. Two things: nothing about it is blue, and it looks more like a post office. I've had a quick Google, and I can't find anything on why the anchors are blue in pub names, but I have found that some are red, some are white, and there's a black one in Portugal that's an Irish bar. So we're learning all sorts of things today, aren't we?
Another church. It was around here that Matthew piped up about being open to the possibility of there being a god. I asked if he meant God, as in Jesus's dad, and he looked thoughtful and said he wasn't sure. I left him to ponder that as we walked along. It's not my job to tell my kids what to believe or not believe. But I was curious to see how this might play out because I've never had to have a discussion with my kids so far about things we disagree on, other than whether or not Frozen is a good film. And on Frozen, my opinion has no bearing at all because I haven't seen it, and I hope I never will. The clever among you might say that my opinion on God and/or gods might have no bearing either because I've never seen Him/it/them – but no one has, so there's that.
We found ourselves on the canal again. Indeed, it seems that you can't go very far around these parts without hitting the canal. I'm not complaining – I love the canal. Really, I'm just saying this in case you're thinking, 'oh no, she's at the canal again – she's always at the canal.' You're right, but that's because all roads lead to the canal. How many times can a person use the word 'canal' in one paragraph? This is probably not too far off the record.
A little way along the ... I don't want to say canal again ... stretch of water, we found a pontoon. 'Look, Matthew!' says I. 'It's a pontoon.' He knew it was because we'd discussed the word at length the last time we saw one. Despite saying that he wanted to jump in the water on our last walk, he's not too keen on a pontoon. I'm not sure why. I, of course, being a child of seven, always have to walk on a pontoon rather than the path.
We found a likely gate to Narnia. We couldn't try it because it led in this world to someone's garden, and that person was actually outside, doing some weeding.
We got off the canal soon after this because we saw this nice gate, and a lane that looked like it might lead somewhere nice.
And then there was practically a socially distanced traffic jam. Matthew and I tried to keep out of the way when two horses and their people came over the bridge, and a family out for a walk wanted to get onto the canal. It was chaos, I tell you, for a full three seconds.
Thwaite Brow Lane, this is. What's a thwaite, and why does it have a brow? Google, wait a minute ... ahh, it never lets us down. Did you know that a thwaite is a piece of wild land that is cleared or reclaimed for cultivation? No, neither did I. All about the knowledge today.
We'd come quite a fair way by this time, and I remembered that Physio Chris said I've not to wait for pain before heading back. The aim of the game is get to the end of the walk with no pain at all, so we decided to find our way back to Shady Lane because I was feeling a little twinge in one of my hips.
On the way, we saw a mansion that we've never noticed before ...
And at the other end of the scale, a derelict building that I thought was rather lovely. After I'd taken this picture and gone, 'ooh, Matthew, don't you think there's something rather nice about this one?', I glanced to the house just to the left and its owner was staring at me as though I was doing something really offensive. I smiled cheerfully, which is what I always do if a grumpy person catches me by the eye.
We were very hot and sweaty now, and after an unsuccessful stop at a chippie where we hoped we might get a couple of cans of pop – 'sorry, we're only taking internet orders' – we decided to have a sit on these steps with our flask of tea. Tea wasn't really what we wanted in this heat, but it would have to do. But we were soon in the way when other people wanted to get down the steps, so we had to move.
Luckily, we were back at the pontoon. I sprawled out on here, with my coat as a blanket and my feet dangling in the water, and Matthew sat on a very uncomfortable-looking bench on the path, still refusing to step on the pontoon. 'Are you scared it'll drift off?' says I. 'No,' says Matthew, 'I just don't feel like I want to go on it.' With anyone else, you might be forgiven for thinking that this was an excuse from someone who was actually scared the pontoon might drift off. But Matthew almost always tells the truth, so this was definitely his genuine reason, such as it was.
Blazing sunshine! We went back to the car eventually, though we did sit for quite a while in the sun, just enjoying the fact that it was Saturday afternoon and we didn't have to be anywhere or rush off for anything.
One more church. 'Oh, I should be clear,' says Matthew. 'When I said I was open to the possibility of there being a god, I meant Odin – I've been listening, but I've not heard him ... or Thor. But I think they might be there, drinking and fighting.' That's all I have to say about that.
Looks like we might have seen the last of the summer weather now, but I had two more sunny walks after this one, so I'll go and write about those now.
Comments
Post a Comment