In 1816 the limestone monolith was cut in the then Lancashire village of Cartmel for the Furness roadmaster, William Field. It was erected in 1860, after his death. In 1997 the stone was smashed into four pieces, probably as the result of a car crash.
Man’s Medley - George Herbert
Hark, how the birds do
sing,
And woods do ring!
All creatures have their joy, and man hath his.
Yet if we rightly measure,
Man’s joy and pleasure
Rather hereafter than in present is.
Well, what do you think?
The man had a gift for making his coffee last. At Chesters, Kirkstone Gallery, Skelwith Bridge.
Ridiculously expensive, yet we keep going back.
Not the drink I'd expected, but it was very good. Jo's drinking my vodka and cranberry juice.
It amuses me no end to park our van amongst the
expensive modern vehicles.
I say, old chap, would you be so good as to try and remove that thing from my nearside mirror?
A VW camper-owning e-friend tells me the following sad tale:
"My
friend is a big black woman with a loud voice. Not a
horribly "look at me" loud voice, she just speaks
clearly! In a very strong scouse accent. She is also
a foster carer and takes on 'challenging' cases for
6 week assessment - really demanding, I couldn't do
it, she deserves medals. But the outcome of this is
that she often has to be a firm disciplinarian in
public places. Not shouting and bawling, just firm
and in control. And, her van is awful, it really is,
white, tatty with two foot long trickles of
Finnegan's below each rust spot. The elevating roof
is mucky as hell and the seal's perished, the
windscreen has rust holes round it that are taped up
with duck tape. Not exactly a vehicle that fits well
in that car park!
Anyway, me & my missus & kids were in the queue just
about to get served and my mate is still stood there
despite having been in the queue much longer than
us. I suddenly realised that she was looking miffed,
asked her what's up and she said,
"These people seem to be doing their best to ignore me!" and they were.
With such an up front observation to bring attention to their rudeness they then served her but with a disgusted "dealing with riff-raff" air. She ordered but then said,
"Actually I think I've changed my mind. Cancel that. Sorry to mess you about and thank you for your time", and went outside to wait for us. Needless to say we weren't long behind."
The Langdale Pikes from the start of Wrynose proper.
A warning sign at the foot of the pass refers to 30% gradients.
We whizzed up, dropping to second for the many seriously steep parts.
It's steep allright. (English tomato on the dash console).
 |
Just below the summit ((which
is at 1289 feet (393
m))
is the Three Shire Stone. It does now seem
quite odd that until 1974 (when I first
moved oop North), Cumberland, Westmorland
and Lancashire all met here. |
Hardknott Pass in the distance.
Wrynose from the west.
The pterodactyl (-ious heron), of Duddon.
The tiny shrub beyond the bluebells is bog myrtle, and crushing its leaves produces one of the best smells int' world.
The imaginatively named Tarn Beck, a tributary of the Duddon.
A little boy on a bicycle came out out of the side road.......
"Do you live in your camper van?" "No, I have a house, but we do have long holidays in our campervan".
"Are you married?" "Yes".
Do you have any children? "I've a son who's 26 years old".
After a while he "paddled" his bicycle backwards from the verge and into the path of a car.
It stopped while the cyclist continued to ponder long and hard.
