I went out on New Year’s morning to find a waterfall. I guess the main aim was to find somewhere new to walk and I stopped briefly about a mile short of Routin Brig because there was a sign that said there was a path to it. On closer examination, the notice said the path (which followed the river upstream) could become impassable after a lot of rain (tick) and had narrow segments that had a steep drop into the water. I’m not the best on my feet these days and didn’t really want to start 2026 with a trip to A&E, so I got back in the car and drove.
It was worth the drive, though it would have looked better under a blue sky.
The current bridge, which carries a road, is from the late 18th century, but there apparently has been a river crossing there since the 16th or earlier. The river is called the Cairn Water and it’s rumoured that witches used to meet here and the area is closely associated with the Covenanters (and their persecution). The only people I met there were taking a New Year’s dip though, which involved a degree of yelling, so I assume it was chilly!
Because I am on standby for work (quiet so far, fingers crossed) we couldn’t walk too far, but we wandered a bit in the woodland and Triar celebrated New Year by doing zoomies four times round a tree on his extending lead. I was expecting to have to disentangle him, but he resolved it by changing direction and zooming round the other way three times on his own. I had to persuade him round the fourth time, but he did pretty well for a dog at speed.
I stopped a couple of times on the way back, once to look at another sign, which indicated a path “Coffin Road to Shawhead”. I shall go back and explore that one another day. Coffin roads were, as the name indicates, footpaths that led from villages or towns to a church. These were the pathways by which the dead were carried to their burial place. The associated church in this case is the eye catching kirk at Kirkpatrick Irongray. Isn’t that a wonderful name?
Again, there is history here associated with the Covenanters. History is complicated m but in essence, these were Scots who resisted the establishment of the king as the head of the church as only Jesus could be that. As with being a witch, the punishment for preaching at “conventicles” – places outside the church in the open air or in barns and houses – was death. History is bloody, is it not, but those who stand by their principles against changes they see as wrong, despite appalling consequences, are a fascinating study.
Though I had hoped to spend New Year in Settle, it has been a good few days, filled with rest and good food, much of it provided by Donna. At short notice, I joined her family for the traditional Scottish New Year meal of steak pie, then for a “festive food from the freezer” meal last night and am going again for a birthday celebration with friends tomorrow. I know I am truly blessed to have such a generous neighbour.
Next week will be interesting. The decorator is due to start painting and varnishing on Monday. After that, I will need carpets and a few of the electricals need tidying up, but 2026 should hopefully be the year when I can start having overnight visitors again. I hope the end stages go smoothly.
In the meantime, I will leave you with another end of the year picture from Blackbird Lane. The sky was beautiful on Wednesday and I took some more photos after I had turned and begun to walk back. Thank you for reading and Happy New Year to you all.
I had a great visit to Stavanger, visiting John and Yoana. It’s not always easy when you live in a different country from close family, but at least it’s only a short hop on a plane from Manchester to Southwest Norway.
There weren’t so many photo opportunities, but there was some wonderful food. We took a trip to a couple of my old haunts in Egersund. Lovely coffee and a club sandwich in Mokka was a good start to the day, then a visit (though sadly no swim) to the open air swimming pool.
We also ate super-tasty homemade pizza. Yoana’s delicious sourdough bases have always been delicious, but they’ve invested in a pizza oven and the results are incredible.
The whole thing was over far too soon, but I was treated to a beautiful sunset as I took off on the flight home.
I’ve been keeping up with my WalkFit targets. This week it’s up to 7,500 steps daily. Still don’t think I’ve lost any weight, nor do I feel better – I mostly feel tired and heavy. That said, I am managing it and it’s not getting worse, so I shall persevere. Once I get home from my holiday, I’ll start working on my eating patterns, but not yet!
I’ve been back in the Dales now for three days. Tomorrow I head north to Aberdeen, then on Saturday I take the overnight boat to Lerwick. It’s been warm and sunny in the days since I came back. A bit too warm for walking, in general, but as Triar and I have to get our steps in, we’ve been getting out early, while it’s still cool.
Yesterday, I headed into Settle. There are far fewer cars at 7:30 am, and hardly any people. For the first time ever, I managed to get some vehicle-free photos in the town centre.
We wandered back through alleyways and ginnels.
Lunch was delicious: chicken and bacon salad at Elaine’s Tearoom at Feizor. I wasn’t expecting hot breaded chicken, but it was delicious, as was the thick, tasty chunks of bacon.
This morning’s early start took me up Lodge Lane, then on down into Watery Lane. Such a gorgeous morning, walking through dappled sunlight in the cool morning air.
I will leave you with a final view looking back at the wateriest part of Watery Lane. This isn’t my normal day or time for posting, but I should be arriving in Lerwick on Saturday morning, so the chances of me posting anything then are fairly small.
I was truly spoiled last weekend. It was a time of eating and… well eating more! There was some wine, but really… it was a food fest. Saturday dawned sunny, but there was such a cold wind that wild swimming didn’t seem like such a good idea any more. Instead, we sat in the garden, with the chiminea guzzling wood, as we did the same to a tube of Pringles. By Sunday morning, finding clothes to fit was more of a challenge than I had anticipated, but happily a new top came to the rescue for going to church, where my spirits were lifted. After a delicious lunch of leftover pizza, I headed down the road feeling replete, in more ways than one.
What I was though, was ripe for plucking! As a scrolled through Facebook, I came across a walking app called WalkFit. If I took up walking, it said, I would get to my goal weight in three months (ambitious, to say the least) but sooner than that, it promised that in a week, I’d feel better… and in two, I’d look better. I was hooked.
It has certainly had the effect of making me walk a lot more, but with two days left before the week is up, what I feel is not so much better, as knackered! My feet and legs are tired, I feel heavy and bloated and I haven’t been sleeping well. This is not really what I expected, though it might point to ME as a diagnosis for my neuro ills.
That said, the last time I started to walk, having had a vitamin B injection, the effect was that I quickly got fitter and did feel better. I’m not taking vitamin B in any form at the moment, so that’s something to try. Anyway, a nice side-effect is that I have been walking further along Blackbird Lane, enjoying all the birdsong and the flowers and the wonderful sense of peace.
The photo at the top of the page is from one of my morning walks. The dew is still wet on the grass and in the shady corners, there are frosted leaves and flowers.
Everything is growing with the gentle vigour of Scottish springtime.
The eponymous blackbirds are out in force, darting about, calling their sweet songs, curiously brave as I pass, but flitting away when I pull out my phone to take their picture. As so often before, I wish I had a camera with a lens that would allow me to capture them from further off, but still I do my best, and here it is.
The daffodils are passing now, but a few remain.
This week, bluebells have started to appear.
The hawthorn is decked in exquisite white and gold flowerettes.
And in the last two days, these hardy but cheerful perennials have reared their heads.
Meanwhile, back in my neglected garden, spring is also working its magic.
Nature perseveres and so shall I! Have a good week all and thanks for reading.
John and Yoana have returned to Norway. 2025 is here and in a couple of days, I will return home and to work, but for now I am making the most of the time I have with my parents. I roasted a chicken on New Year’s Day and cooked lots of green vegetables to eat with it, though my efforts were slightly undone by dad’s suggestion, that we took up, of eating one of the Christmas puddings.
I can’t lie, it was worth it – utterly delicious in its caramelly, fruity luciousness. I managed to get through much of Christmas sticking to my Second Nature instilled habit, “Avoid products with added sugar,” but I have rather fallen off the wagon this week, or rather, as Second Nature would prefer to think of it, I haven’t been voting so much for my healthier self. I will be back to voting for less sugar and filling half my plate with vegetables when I get home. For me, it’s easier to control what I buy than to resist cakes that are lying around. I haven’t brought my scales, so I’ll have to wait and see where my festive voting has taken me when I get home.
The weather has mostly been grey, with clouds swathing the tops of the fells, but on Thursday, I woke to blue skies. Despite the fact that Watery Lane was bound to be living up to its name after all the wet weather, I headed there and from there took a little side gate that led me up the lower fellside, through the gorgeous, green fields with their endless dry stone walls and picturesque barns.
The path, such as it was, took me out onto Lodge Lane and Triar and I turned and walked downhill until we reached the farm steading, where Lodge Lane and Watery Lane meet.
The choices here were to turn left back onto Watery Lane, which leads along a bridleway, between walls through the fields, or follow Lodge Lane down to the B road that leads into Settle. The latter would have been the drier option, but given I had my sturdy winter boots on, I thought I’d risk the Watery diversion.
It was dry, at the beginning and I took some photos of the sheep that were basking in the warmth of the sun.
But the further I walked, the wetter it got, until there was a diverted beck actually running along the bridleway. I guess the horses wouldn’t have minded!
Here, it was stony and Triar and I picked our way through the shallows, but the next section was so muddy that the risk of slipping was too high. We made our way back to a gate that was difficult to open. I guess the farmer doesn’t want people walking through the fields any more than necessary, but we made it through, and finished our walk through the drier field. It was a lovely walk, but even Triar was glad to get home and relax on the sofa by the fire.
There are more weather warnings for this weekend. They feel endless at the moment, but so far, none of the threatened snow has arrived and this morning looks grey and damp. I have spent the spare moments of the last few days writing and will continue with that into the weekend. It’s lovely to be able to concentrate on the story and I have started to consider the edits I will need to make, even though I will still only be two thirds of the way through by the time I get back. Still, my writing group are meeting on Wednesday next week, so at least I can say I’ve been writing. For much of last year, I was too busy to get much done. I hope 2025 will be a turning point.
I seem to be in a perpetual state of travel at the moment. After Perth, I had a night in Airth, then down to Yorkshire, and from Yorkshire, I headed directly to Crewe, not having spent a single night in my own bed. Luckily in Crewe, I was staying in a Premier Inn. I guess some would find their ubiquity boring, but I rather like knowing exactly what the room will be like, and what’s on the breakfast menu, even if I’ve never been to that particular hotel before.
This week’s training was on dealing with outbreaks of notifiable disease, with particular attention to bird flu, or avian influenza, as it’s called officially. It was quite sobering to hear the accounts of a couple of vets who arrived two years before me, and found themselves dealing with outbreak cases within a few weeks of arriving. That must have been a baptism of fire, given all the kit you have to wear, including hoods that cover your entire head and blow air over your face and require you to keep an eye on the battery levels if you’re in the sheds too long.
There was a day of practical training, out on a chicken farm. I’ve seen lots of broilers before – chickens bred for meat – so I was interested to see this one, which had laying hens. Though the hens were all inside, so not free range, they were not in cages, which I was glad about. Unlike the broilers, who were mostly on the floor, with a few perches and “toys” to interact with if they wanted, these hens were much more energetic and had different levels to walk on and metal bars to navigate across. It seemed a relatively good environment to me.
We saw some chickens being euthanized. It wasn’t particularly pleasant to watch, though the aim is to have high welfare throughout the process – hopefully actually higher than they would have in a slaughterhouse. There are various roles I might have to take if I go out to a notifiable disease case and one is the Welfare Vet. It’s important that I know the correct way everything should be done.
It wouldn’t necessarily be a big, commercial farm either. If I had to deal with someone’s pet chickens, I would want to be able to explain to them about what might happen, to prepare them for what they might see, just as I used to do when I euthanized people’s dogs when I was in practice. Dying doesn’t always look peaceful, even when there is no suffering involved.
We also carried out some post mortems. If I’m first on the scene, I have to be capable of carrying out some basic diagnostic procedures. Ultimately, all notifiable diseases will be diagnosed via tests sent to an official laboratory, but if I can rule out notifiable disease without it getting that far, it can save a lot of disruption. It can take twenty four hours for the tests to come back and until then, depending on which disease is suspected, movement restrictions will be in place, not just for the farm we’re on, but potentially for a large area surrounding that. With suspicion of foot and mouth, the whole country might potentially be brought to a standstill, so it’s incredibly important that the key vet is competent and backed up with a competent team.
At some point, I will be sent out to a report case where there is suspicion of a notifiable disease. While I know it will be daunting when it does happen, I feel better prepared now than I was before.
I finally got home on Thursday and have spent the last two nights in my own bed. As my friend Lara can confirm, I only own super-comfortable beds, so being home is always pretty nice! On my way up the road from Yorkshire, I stopped at Gretna Outlet to buy myself a new weekend happiness kit.
Though it wasn’t the weekend yet, Triar and I went out to Kirkconnell Flow Nature Reserve last night to start breaking my new boots in, ready for some more Perthshire hills next week. Kirkconnell flow is an ancient, raised, peat bog. Very rare apparently and stunningly beautiful yesterday evening in the golden light. We walked along the edge and through the forest, which reminded me of the forests in the north of Norway, with their tall pines and smaller silver birches sheltering underneath.
I was enjoying it so much that we did the outer circuit first and then the shorter inner circuit. I have a walk planned for today as well. Nothing too strenuous and good, well marked paths so getting lost is not possible. It’s about time I started exploring Dumfries and Galloway on foot and not just in my car.
Thank you for reading. I hope you have a good week.
After a pleasant weekend in Yorkshire, Andrew, Triar and I returned to Dumfries last Sunday, but I didn’t stay there long. I had booked a trip to Ayr to go out on a welfare cross-compliance visit with a colleague who needed support. I drove up and we worked on the paperwork together on Monday. The visit was planned for Tuesday and I wanted to have plenty of time to go through everything, but it was also good to catch up with some other Animal Health Officer colleagues I had worked with before in Stranraer.
I stayed in the Mercure Hotel, which was clean enough and had a decent breakfast, though the bed and pillow were so hard that I was surprised that I managed to get a reasonable night’s sleep. The British obsession with hard mattresses stopped making sense after a few years in Norway, where the mattresses are all soft and it feels like you are sleeping on a cloud.
I awoke in the morning to a cloudy day and a rather noisy friend outside my bedroom window. I confess I had been quite amused the night before to see a discarded half bottle of some unknown liquor on the flat roof outside my room. It’s so very Scottish to see that. With apologies to my Scottish friends, Scotland really does have a litter problem, as well as a huge penchant for drinking. The streaking of my window with bird poo might have been a hint, but I hadn’t really expected such a close encounter with a seagull.
This was just before I was about to go downstairs and I toyed with the idea of bringing back a slice of toast for the interloper, but out of respect for the hotel windows, I decided any more encouragement was not a good plan.
As this was also my second week on the Second Nature plan and I had pledged to do fifteen minutes exercise each morning, I decided to take a walk before breakfast. Though it’s not obvious from the photo above, if you squint at the area, over the rooftops, to the left of the tree my room did technically have a sea view, so I thought I would walk in that direction.
Wandering the town near the hotel to find a restaurant, the night before, I had been rather put off Ayr. The place had a run down air, though the Tempura restaurant (which Donna had recommended) was very nice, with lovely friendly staff. As I walked down towards the beach, I saw another side to it. While still run down, it was obvious as I walked down the wide street, with its substantial, terraced townhouses, now converted into solicitor’s offices and charity headquarters, that this had once been an attractive and prosperous place.
As I cleared the end of the houses, I saw a building that I knew, before I rounded the end of it to see the signs, that it would be called The Pavilion.
To my left, there was a huge swathe of flat green land with pathways crossing it. I thought of Triar and wished he was there.
The Scoopalicious Ice Cream company was another nudging reminder of the golden age of Scottish seaside, west coast towns. An ice cream shop run by an Italian family was another staple in all the resorts that the people of Glasgow escaped to.
There was a pleasant sunken garden…
And a fountain, complete with a fairly traditional traffic cone.
Though the sky was filled with clouds, the mountains of Arran were visible across the water of the wide bay as a reached the sea. To my left and right, there stretched a broad, sandy beach, and again, I found myself wishing Triar was here as he would love to run free across that vast expanse of sand.
I was tempted to venture down onto the sand, but time was limited. Turning back, I was unsurprised to see that The Pavilion was indeed called The Pavilion and was fronted with another southern, Scottish west coast tradition, some rather tired looking palm trees.
As I walked back up the road, I felt that odd sense of sadness and nostalgia such places bring me. Ayr and Largs were not part of my childhood, but many of those my age from Glasgow and other smaller west coast towns can remember visiting those places as children, when they were still popular holiday destinations. I found myself thinking I might come back sometime, for a weekend, and set Triar free on that beach to run.
The rest of my day was taken up with work. The welfare visit went well and I hope I left my colleague with a clearer view of how to carry out an inspection. Back in Dumfries, I have spent the rest of the week catching up with cases. I have written the first draft of a witness statement for a welfare case that might go to court and carried out a disease and cost risk assessment to allow one of my farmers with a TB breakdown to bring a new bull onto the farm.
We can’t go to Yorkshire this weekend as tomorrow, I will be working at the Highland Show. I spent yesterday reading the contingency plan for what we would do in the event of an outbreak of serious disease in the animals at the show. I understood the plans, but found myself hoping we wouldn’t have to implement them as it would be a huge undertaking, trying to sort animals, people and vehicles into groups that could leave and groups that couldn’t, with various stages in between involving gallons of disinfectant and chaotic queues.
I will finish with some photos from Blackbird Lane. There are cows in the fields now and different wildflowers growing in the hedges. The hawthorn bushes have lost their spiky, white blossom and are beginning to form berries, that for now are a muted, brownish red, but will become bright and red as the autumn nears.
It’s been a quiet week at work. As a veterinary inspector, I am on a rota four times a year for detached duty. During that time, I can be deployed anywhere in the UK where there is a disease outbreak. I was on the rota for next week, so I was half waiting for a call to come in, and I had kept my calendar clear of visits. I wasn’t sure when I would be told, but I was out inspecting a rendering plant on Tuesday with G, who told me that if I hadn’t heard by now, I could probably assume I wasn’t being sent anywhere.
I must say it came as a relief. Normally, I’m all for travelling to different places for work. I love a bit of variety and the current outbreak work seems to be bluetongue inspections and blood testing (last year’s bird flu – higher risk – not so pleasant) but I was exhausted after moving and the house is still in chaos. Triar was also unsettled so, much as he loves visiting Mum and Dad, it seemed better all round to be staying in our new home for a while. It also meant that I could plan my workload over two weeks instead of rushing through it.
The rendering plant visit was fascinating. I dare say most would find it grim. They deal with animal waste products, so stuff like fallen stock (animals that died on farms) and slaughterhouse waste. The products they process are high risk, so they have to heat them to a high temperature, then separate what’s left out. What impressed me, is that even these waste products are put to good use.
They remove as much fat (tallow) as they can and send it to make biofuels. Their fat is used to drive buses. The remaining meat and bone meal is sent to a power station and burned to produce energy, then the ashes become fertilizer. The plant itself has also recently invested in machinery that recirculates the heat, so that it’s twenty five percent more efficient than it used to be, and if the price of tallow drops, they can even run the unit using that, rather than selling it. Given how much of our household waste goes into landfill, it was good to find out that this waste is being put to much better use.
I was feeling a bit down when I came back from Yorkshire last Sunday. I had flung everything into my new house and then had to go away, so I knew I wasn’t coming back to an oasis of tranquility. Donna had suggested celebrating my arrival with gin, but she had a friend round and there was no way I could leave Triar to go and join them. Practical as ever she immediately suggested that she and Debs could come round, bringing the gin with them.
They arrived with gin, tonic and extra large ice cubes, which apparently are better as they don’t melt so fast and dilute the gin too much! Having allowed Debs to pour (in the knowledge that Debs pours with a very generous hand) they didn’t even get as far as sitting down. Seeing I was overwhelmed with everything, they offered to do what Donna had done when I last moved, and unpack my kitchen.
There wasn’t really any room for me (it’s a little house) so I went and cleaned out the sticky, hairy bathroom drawers, which I confess was helped along by being gin fueled. There’s quite a lot still to be done and cleaned, but having the basics in place makes life much more liveable.
My new street does seem rather lovely. There are three rows of cottages in what was once a village outside Dumfries, but which has now been assimilated. My street doesn’t go anywhere and I am almost at the end of it, so there’s not a lot of passing footfall. I’ve said before, that it seems like something out of Harry Potter and that feeling hasn’t gone away. I’ve been taking a Triar out morning and night and every time I seem to meet someone new. There’s Gary next door and Kay along the way, who has a little dog called Hamish, and apparently there’s a lovely old man across the street, who’s 93. He was born here, I was told, and wants everyone to feel welcome, so I hope to meet him soon. Everyone has been incredibly welcoming and it does feel like I’m living in a friendly village, rather than in a town.
And so the best part of my daily routine at the moment, is walking Triar. At the end of our street, you can take a left turn down a lane. It’s bordered with hawthorn and it’s filled with wild flowers and birdsong. It’s not (so far as I know) called Blackbird Lane, but that’s what I’ve called it in my head, because they are everywhere.
They sit atop the hawthorn, regarding me with their bright eyes, seemingly fearless. The males, with their sleek black plumage and cheerful yellow beaks, compete with one another for the best perches. I caught sight of one of the quieter brown females last night with a worm in her mouth, so perhaps she already has young somewhere.
I see house sparrows too, in the hedges and flitting around, but what I find particularly wonderful is the birdsong. A Norwegian friend from the Arctic posted on Facebook this week “the sound of spring” with film of a newly unfrozen stream, emerging from the ice. A wonderful sound indeed after the winter silence, but here in south west Scotland, spring is filled with birdsong.
Just listening to it fills me with joy, but a while back, I downloaded an app, which records the song and tells me what I am hearing. I remembered it a couple of nights ago and it came up with sparrow, blackbird, wren, great tit and blue tit. Last night’s rendition was even better, though it did miss the wood pigeon that was calling in the distance. Finding out which birds are there makes the whole thing even more wonderful.
So there is a lot to do, but also a lot to look forward to. Today, I have to go and buy a stepstool so I can reach the ceilings. The previous owner smoked in the kitchen and the smell still lingers, along with the yellow stained paint. I’ll need to wash it all down before I can paint it. A colleague recommended a joiner to me and he came round yesterday to assess how much work it would be to put in insulation in the roof.
He suggested that, as we would have to pull the walls down to put the insulation in, if I was considering putting in a bathroom or toilet upstairs, it would be better to do the whole thing at once, and check the wiring too, if that was a viable option, so he might come back today with an electrician and later with a plumber. If he can really organize everything for me, that would be a miracle.
But priorities are priorities and the most important task of the day, apart from my tours down Blackbird lane, is to go out and buy some gin and tonic in the hope of attracting in a friendly neighbour. Said neighbour may have to bring along some extra large ice cubes as my freezer needs defrosting before I can use it. Currently it is scented with six month old cigarette smoke. Obviously I should have defrosted it before I moved in, but lingering ice odours hadn’t crossed my mind! I’m going on holiday soon, so that will be a good opportunity for defrosting, cleaning and airing.
Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed this little trip down Blackbird lane. I am looking forward to seeing what grows there through the summer and also exploring further as the mud dries up. Have a good week all!
I thought I’d share a few photos from yesterday. Mum, Dad and I walked from Settle to Langcliffe, where we had afternoon tea in the village institute. I felt I was wandering through a James Herriot book!
There were flowers everywhere.
Dry stone walls scaled the heights of the fells, we heard the lambs bleating for their mothers and we looked down over stone barns and tiled rooftops.
The afternoon tea was a selection of homemade cakes. There’s afternoon tea every Sunday afternoon in Langcliffe. The cakes were delicious, though I should have got there earlier to photograph them in their full, delicious glory!
And to top it all off, there was a gorgeous Border Collie called Jess, slumbering under one of the tables.
Today we are going to a book fair in the Victoria Hall. See you soon!
I thought I’d start with a few thoughts about my stay. Someone commented last time I was in the UK, that they were interested to find out what changes I’d noticed since I was last here, in 2019. I can’t say I’ve noticed too many, though of course my parents notice many things I haven’t, such as changes in the NHS. Prices have probably gone up, or portion sizes have shrunk, but that’s happened elsewhere too.
I think perhaps it’s me that has changed more, and that’s partly to do with the pandemic. Living in the north of Norway, along with general pandemic precautions, I am unused to being close to large numbers of people. In Glasgow I went to a Marks and Spencer Food Hall, which was (to me) heinously busy. I pretty much ran to the section I wanted, grabbed something, and rushed out. It was much the same when we stopped at a service station on the motorway. I escaped outside as soon as I possibly could. I also had a discussion with John about driving. He’s learned to drive in Norway in an area where there are relatively few cars on the road. He was watching the drivers on the A65 with a kind of horrified fascination as they drove in close convoys, with only a meter or two between each car.
Other things struck me anew, which I had forgotten because I hadn’t been here for so long. Nobody in Norway has a string light switch in their bathroom! Anna tells me one of her friends was mystified, trying to turn the light on when he visited. Then again, Norwegian houses seem to burn down quite often, which is probably because a lot of the electric wiring is DIY. That and all the candles, of course. Most of the taps (faucets) in Norway are mixer taps, so I was freshly frustrated trying to rinse my hands before the hot tap got too volcanic. Cash? There was consternation recently when the entire card network went down for one of the major Norwegian supermarket chains. I had to go and find an ATM. I’ve lived in Finnsnes for two years and didn’t know where it was. Lots of people still seem to use cash here. And for anyone who likes their floors to stay clean, Norway is the place to be. I still can’t adjust back to keeping my shoes on in the house. I kick them off at the door, every time.
Food wise, it’s been a frustrating holiday. I’ve been sticking to low fat foods throughout. Fortunately, there’s a fairly good selection, though it can’t have done my teeth much good eating so many iced buns and scones with jam. There has also been a glut of bacon and ham rolls, slathered in delicious chutney, but without butter. Eating out is difficult, though full marks to Rosa and Matteo’s Italian Restaurant in Settle, which made me a wonderful low fat Pasta e ceci – pasta with chickpeas – (twice) but there have been a few occasions where I’ve watched everyone else eating fish and chips or curry, and wished I could join in. Still, there’s much more choice here, even with my health limitations. I think I might get thinner when I go back.
What I would have liked to eat in The Golden Lion in Settle – sausage, mash, onion rings, peas and gravyWhat I ate – noodle salad with mixed leaves, roasted courgettes, peppers, cherry tomatoes, sweetcorn, coriander and lime
Still, I managed to fit in a couple of walks this week. On Tuesday, Helen and I were driven over to Long Preston, and walked back to Settle over the fells. We also took a detour up to see Scaleber Force waterfall, though Force is a complete misnomer at the moment as there’s hardly any water in it. Still, it was a pleasant, 9km walk, taken early in the morning, before the day started to heat up.
The second walk was this afternoon, with Dad. We didn’t go far: just along the riverside in Settle itself, but I was glad to have the time together, before I have to leave tomorrow.
The Ribble as it runs along the back of Ribble Terrace
We’ve also managed a bit of shopping. Andrew took us on a hunt for Raven Forge in Crosshills. We almost missed it, as it looked like a unit in an industrial estate, but we stopped and asked someone who was working there, and found ourselves invited in to a wonderful display of swords and weaponry, from all kinds of games and films.
Weaponry display at Raven Forge
We also went upstairs in The Geek Side, a little gift shop in a rather magical arcade in Skipton, and discovered a veritable Harry Potter paradise.
Harry Potter merchandise in The Geek Side shop in Skipton
And if you want some sweets, you could do worse than The Dalesman Café in Gargrave.
An old-fashioned sweetshop in The Dalesman Café, Gargrave
But in the end of the day, it all comes down to the wonderful view from my parents’ garden. As the sun goes down, and the shadows lengthen on my last day in this golden oasis, I can only hope that it won’t be too long before I can return.
Wildflower garden with golden evening sunlight on the hillside behind
This week’s post will mainly be about two walks I took this week, the first with my dad, the second with John, but first a quick update on things I forgot last week when I was unable to use my computer. My health is moderately stable. Because of the likelihood of some kind of blockage of my bile duct, I have been eating a low fat diet. This has mostly worked, but any time I deviate from it, I develop pain. It’s nowhere near as bad as the pain before I had my gall bladder removed ten years ago. It’s only somewhat physically troublesome, but psychologically more so.
On the subject of submissions and publishers, there’s nothing much to report. Another couple of rejections, but with some positive feedback about my writing. Too commercial, seems to be the main objection at present, which presumably means it doesn’t fit the style they’re looking for, and not that they think it will sell too well. One editor gave more specific feedback that she “wasn’t sure [it] had quite the escapist, romantic tone [she was] looking for at present”. She did say it was well written though, so I hope that somewhere there is an editor who will fall in love with it. Commercial fiction within traditional publishing tends to fall into very specific genres at the moment and what I’ve written doesn’t fall neatly into any of them, so it was always going to be challenging.
I guess it would be odd to write this without also noting that John, Andrew and I have ended up in the UK at a time of mass upheaval in parliament. The astonishing events of the past week, with dozens of resignations within the Conservative Party, resulting in the resignation of Boris Johnson (though he hasn’t gone yet which, given his recent maverick activities, seems risky) have been something to behold. It has interested me, watching from Norway, that in the UK press at least, it has appeared that Johnson has been credited with handling the pandemic marvellously, based mostly on his roll-out of vaccinations. Watching from the relative calm of Norway, with its early lockdown and only marginally slower vaccination roll out, it seemed bizarre that he received quite so much credit, but of course I don’t know what it felt like on the ground. I can’t say I’m sad to see him go. He seems an unfit person to be in power, with his history of lies and profligacy, but he’s obviously one of those divisive figures that some people love and others don’t.
Anyway, onto the walks and photographs. I went for a walk on Sunday with my dad. After not seeing him for two and a half years, all the time wondering whether we would ever do such a thing again, it felt wonderful to be out in the Yorkshire countryside: a very precious moment together. We walked to Langcliffe, which is a village not far outside Settle. We walked past an old mill, then on up the hill to Langcliffe itself, which is even more charming than Settle, with its terraced stone houses, quiet country church, and village green. We called into the village institute, where volunteers were serving tea and cakes. It felt very much like being inside a James Herriot novel (though without the animals, obviously) which I found very pleasing!
View of Ribblesdale through a wooden farm gate
The second walk was a 7km hike with John. We drove to Malham, then went up the almost 400 steps to the top of Malham Cove.
On the top of Malham Cove is a limestone pavement. It’s amazing to look out over the valley below from this incredible structure with its weathered stone, the cracks between the rocks filled with ferns and tiny flowers.
Having reached the top of Malham Cove, and finding my second wind, we decided we would go on a circuit from the top of the cove to meet a road that went back down into Malham village. As we reached the road, we spoke to a couple we met, who had come up via Janet’s Foss, so rather than walking down the road as planned, we took another detour down the shady river valley, past Janet’s Foss (my Norwegian friends will know what that is, as Foss in Norwegian for waterfall) and back through some gorgeous green pasture, where cattle stood knee deep in grass.
We finished with a well deserved drink in the Buck Inn. A lovely end to a wonderful sunny day.
A Vet’s Life 