Over the course of several months I have noticed that Thursday lunch times have been consistently bright and sunny – and I’ve bored numerous taxi drivers with that observation as they have ferried me to Carnforth. This Thursday it was overcast rather disappointingly. But by the time I was operating Dad’s taxi service in the evening it had brightened up.
Stuck in Milnthorpe with a little time to kill I opted for a short stroll by the Bela.
The sky was fantastic.
Every time I visit this spot I hear splashes and see ripples spreading across the surface and think that I might spot fish in the shallow water, and indeed I have seen fish here, but I noticed on this occasion that at least some of the splashes were caused not by fish but by large bubbles of gas (presumably methane?) escaping from the mud on the river bed.
The moon was large and low in the sky and was reflected in the river – unfortunately none of my photos caught the lovely effect of the moon segmented and distorted by the moving water to good effect. It put me in mind of George Orwell’s fictional perfect pub ‘The Moon Under Water’. His essay about that haven finished:
And if anyone knows of a pub that has draught stout, open fires, cheap meals, a garden, motherly barmaids and no radio, I should be glad to hear of it, even though its name were something as prosaic as the Red Lion or the Railway Arms.
Amen to that.