A call from Peter this morning. 'Perfect light, get over here for sortie up Birlingham church tower'.Quickly discarding other plans, an essential component of which was spending the morning lazing about, into the trusty Honda and away. Cloud cover at zero octas but some hint of cirrus on the southern horizon, speed of the essence.
Several irritations on journey viz: set of roadwork traffic signals, two tractors, three old dears in Nissan Micras, large Spanish truck lost trying to deliver latest consignment of forced asparagus. Usual stuff.
At church, snowdrops in full swing and Peter up top. Had daft conversation with him on mobile while I could hear every word direct from his lips - must stop doing that as increases phone bill somewhat.
Entered church, greeted by Theresa, sent to tower. At top, very narrow. Strong prospect of stoppage, could see item on news later - 'Fat Man Trapped on Spiral Staircase, Church Demolished'. Sure Peter has a photo of me emerging like a portly cork from a slender bottle.
Fine views, crisp envigorating air. Aren't people strange seen from above?
Return to base not so traumatic as knew what to expect. Welcomed by Mary who offered tea and cake to adventurous spirits. First rate coffee sponge. Took pictures of mate, Peter, being gnomic on font step - will publish in revenge if image of me above appears.
Excellent outing as a result of day seized.
2 comments:
That was absolutely brilliant, and I felt like I was receiving a communique from the front. Nice rust, too.
Lee - I had a mole underground in the village waiting for the moment to strike.
Blues Mama - my life has become one long quest for rust - and thanks ever so for your comments.
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