Sunday Afternoon in the Goyt

It was a glorious spring day. What better way to walk of the excesses off Sunday lunch than to take a stroll in the Goyt. Mrs BW declined. She said she needed a little bit of peace and quiet. So I took the fledglings. Amazingly they actually wanted to come with me. Even when I said the word Walk. This normally causes them to go pale, and to hide their walking boots. I found out why they wanted to come as soon as we pulled out of the drive. "Can we get some sweets dad, and a drink?"

We did not do a long walk. It was more of a stroll really. The fledglings ran on ahead. This left me to get on with the important business of clearing the clutter from my head. A Sky lark rose into the air and hung there. I heard then saw a curlew. The clutter began to disappear.

I caught up with them by the bridge, where in the summer we often take a picnic if the weather is good. We played a couple of games of "Whats the Time Mr Wolf", but I was rubbish at catching them.

They wanted to roll down the steep slope opposite. This is fairly harmless thing to do. They get a lot of pleasure from it and they do look very funny, especially when they get to the bottom and try and stand up. We decided against it eventually.

On the way back the lapwings were out and about, and there were a couple of geese by the duck pond, but we had more important things to do. Like get home to watch Dr Who, which I had missed on Saturday night. "Its really good dad, you must watch it!"

Tomorrow I have get up early and go to Loughborough. It is the first exciting day under the new management, and they have arranged a "day" of "workshops" and opportunities to meet everyone. They will tell us how exciting the future will be. How wonderful the new technology will be. We will sit there and nod and smile. My heart won't be in it though. It will be in the Goyt straining to hear the curlews.

A Brief Escape

Sunday afternoon, post lunch, snooze time! Except the sun was shinning and Mrs BW was restless. She wanted to go out, for a stroll around town. The fledglings were observing an uneasy truce cemented by jointly watching the “Matrix”. They flinched at the word walk.

“Shall we pop out for an hour or two?” “Anywhere in particular?” I asked tentatively. “Well we could pop into M&S and see about getting you a new pair of trousers”. My heart sank. I used the – but it would be better to wait till the summer when I have lost a few pounds – gambit. It worked. “Okay maybe a coffee in Caffe Nero. I think it will be okay to leave the young ones at home for an hour or two. They seem quiet enough.” The fledglings unflinched .

Thirty minutes later we were seated in the “Slopes” Just Mrs BW and me. I had a beer and she a G and T. She put the Observer review section down for a moment. “When was the last time we did this? You know just pop out for a drink on our own?” I shrugged. I hadn’t got a clue. Too long though. The bar man at the Slopes decided that Mrs BW and I did not warrant him staying open. We moved onto the Old Clubhouse. The beer was good, but the cigarette smoke hung in thick clouds. We did not hang around.
We strolled back, past brave hardy souls sitting out side in the weak spring sun determined to prove that Buxton too has its pavement café society. All was well at home. The fragile truce had held, Star Wars had replaced the Matrix. Perhaps we can do it again, someday.