A Correction to the last !

I don't understand quite why but in the last blog, everything went to pot. It all came out as one paragraph and none of the pictures appeared, so this is to make up for that.

This phot0 shows there was indeed sufficient scial distancing space at Sandymouth at least when the tide went out

A view of Fountains Abbey

Rock formation on Dartmoor - Bench Tor. There were equally impressive ones in Calderdale.

Family bubble at Colvelly

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What I did on my Holidays

The first month or so back in the UK was a marvellous opportunity to see rather more of the family for real rather than virtually (and that was also a chance to see what the limitations of the virtual connection actually are - especially in body language and the rapid spontaneity of ordinary speech) and to combine it with a series of mini-holidays accompanied by varying sections of the dynasty. As the Covid restrictions slowly eased, it was of course a strange time here in the UK as elsewhere. There were new customs to discover in cafes and pubs and varying patterns of behaviour of one's fellow citizens to observe. The numbers of people about, enjoying the great outdoors also varied a lot, and often far fewer than the media had led us to expect, even in the Southwest. In the afternoon and evening, Clovelly struck us as almost deserted, except for the locals. Even at the nearby much favoured surfing beach of Sandymouth it was generally easy to get away from people, particularly before a rising tide started to limit the available real estate. Nevertheless, we still spotted the obdurate behaviour of a small minority of people who seem to delight in plonking themselves unnecessarily close to other people. But I expect they always do that. Also where things did sometimes get fraught with too many in one place, such as famously occurred at the Deer Sanctuary in the New Forest, some people just seemed to lose touch with common sense. Getting through a real traffic snarl-up on a tiny forest road with a ditch on one side that was made narrower still by people parking (illegally) on the other side was an opportunity to muse on the nature and extent of peoples' silliness, as I waited for respite from one old motorcyclist who urged me to make way for him by driving into the ditch. Philippa was on hand, anxiously watching my wheels teeter along its edge, while barely restraining herself from some quite unlady-like responses to his suggestions. My No 2 son tells me that my easy assumption that by definition half the population has less than average intelligence is mathematically wrong but here and there some people's behaviour seemed to confirm my misapprehension ! I don't think I was equating silliness with simply not seeing things my way, but, there again, I would think that, wouldn't I ! Anyway, this series of little holidays was an opportunity to do a lot of things I like doing as well as to renew real acquaintance with the family. Pathetically, I find myself needing an excuse to stop bustling around on academic, household or garden tasks - of which there are legion- and enjoying the company the family is ideal for this. I suppose it's the Puritan work ethic which I really find hard to shake off, though I keep trying. Of course, the real problem is that I quite like doing all those 'good works' as well and there are simply not enough hours in the day for them all. Anyhow, doing Castles and getting the most out of my English Heritage membership was one of the real opportunities the mini holidays provided. Because of restricted and timed entries, all of the sites I visited either on my own or with the family, were much less populated than usual. This was actually rather nice, being quiet and facilitating a sense of (temporary) ownership. They were all different. Old Wardour Castle in Wiltshire, knocked about a bit in the Civil War and now an ostentatiously romantic ruin, where they filmed part of 'Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves' (which of course we also had to watch just to check). Bolsover and Conisborough Castles, in Yorkshire, Bolsover simply built to entertain the great and the good and Consisborough, where they filmed ' Ivanhoe,' and now another romantic ruin perched commandingly on a high hill but now hemmed in by rather un-romantic interwar housing estates. But for a photogenic effect rather than for its cinematic importance, Fountains Abbey has to take pride of place though, closely followed by Wardour castle. There were a lot of people at the Abbey ruin, but the sheer size of the place meant there were no problems. Sandymouth provided some enjoyable surfing and a chance for building defences against the advancing sea, as the tide rose. I just managed to scoop up my camera bag, with wallet, phone etc before one particularly venomous wave got it. Visiting, Exmoor, Dartmoor, the New Forest and part of the Yorkshire dales was another great opportunity for appreciating the great outdoors, and for putting the pedometer into action. Magnificent views, clean air and that great sense of virtue through totting up the steps after one has staggered home. (The knee is a lot better I'm glad to say) What more can one ask for ? Mind you, all this healthy activity was definitely needed in order to compensate for all the fish and chips, cream teas, pasties and sandwiches, not to mention the odd libation, that one always seems to get through on such occasions. Because of this, the overall effect of such mini-holidays on physical health might be debateable - but having real human interactions with one's nearest and dearest rather than their two dimensional ZOOM images was the major plus of such gatherings. It fortifies one for the bumpier times that I suspect lie ahead for all of us. Some of the visits were de rigeur, the sort of thing we had to do because we always had and so had accumulated family associations. Top of the list for me is the so-called 'Doone valley' in Exmoor where RD Blackmore set 'Lorna Doone.' I have been going there for decades, and not just because it's a lovely spot. The valley has some of the characteristics of a friend, that one just has to see from time to time. In the novel the hero meets the heroine for the first time on a waterslide between towering cliffs, where he comes a cropper and nearly drowns. I'm convinced I know what inspired Blackmore to conjure up this incident - only the towering cliffs in question are barely eight feet tall and the rushing torrent barely ankle deep (in the Summer at least). For me it's when the countryside is populated with such human associations that it really comes alive, sparking the imagination and one's emotions. Its now also true of Hawker's hut at down the cliffs at Morwenstowe, in Cornwall, which we have been visiting for many years There's a 'secret' cache nearby which records our visits along with those of other people similarly in the know. Sadly some of the records of our earlier ones have gone, including a commemorative one for Cherry. Our wedding anniversary occurred around this time. Astonishing to think it's nearly three years now; the ambushes still occur. Due to my own incompetence in managing food stocks, I had to open a bag of crusty-rolls in what is unkindly called our nuclear war reserve in the freezer, realising, as I did it, that I was literally as well as figuratively untying a knot that Cherry had tied. That gave me pause. The rolls were fine, by the way, so I am not sure what to make of that.