So, here in my online diary we’ve reached the tail-end of September and my memory of that time is slightly hazy. Fortunately, I have photographs to help; here are Little S (who in just a few more years will be towering over me) and TBH approaching the top of Warton Crag.
From where, even on a cloudy day, there’s always some sort of view…
But we weren’t on our own…
Because this was our annual At Home weekend when some of our old friends congregate at our house.
I know what happened, for the simple reason that it was undoubtedly the same things that always happen on these weekends: a bit of a walk each day, despite the weather, which actually wasn’t too bad this time around; endless cups of tea, a few beers, loads of food, including a takeaway from the local curry house and the usual recycling of old stories and even older jokes.
One the Saturday we walked to and from Warton Crag, via Leighton Moss and Summer House Hill.
On the Sunday we must have visited Jack Scout because that’s where this giant limestone seat is, but I can’t recall how we got there or back again.
“Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit.”
These curious Turkeys jumped up onto a wall to assail us as we passed their field.
Must be time for another caption competition…?