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Lake Legends

A grim old Yorkshire Day.

Heading towards that LAKE in the distance. Lake Gormire.

It’s been on our hit list for years. It’s one of those LAKES that has had many old legends attached to it.

It’s BOTTOMLESS and as such it’s a gateway to Hell. Bottomless or 22ft deep if you believe the geological measurements….

It has a prehistoric monster, just not as famous as the one in Loch Ness….

A headless horseman who rides around its shores at night…..

A witch who could transform herself into animals, who jumped into the Lake to escape being burned at the stake and reappeared almost instantly in a local market town, many miles away…. That’s clever as the local bus only runs a couple of times a day, not at weekends and if it turns up it’s running monumentally late…..

Not to be outdone, a Goose apparently did the same Lake disappearing trick ….

A village once stood here but an earthquake swallowed up the buildings, just leaving a lake in their place. Occasionally, when the stars align, you can see the village if you look really carefully into the water….

A mighty castle once stood proudly here, but the owner murdered his wife and as punishment a mighty flood submerged the castle…..

One lake fact which can be confirmed, it was once named by The Times in a list of the top 20 natural swimming locations in the country. Without any feeder rivers or streams, it apparently has hardly any current and has an unusually warm feeling.

On this grim old day these were the only beasts we encountered.

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Years

I wonder how many years these wooden poles have survived the North Sea….

Looking in the mirror most mornings, they have clearly weathered way better than me. The front one has even got more hair than me. I’m not jealous, much 😂😂😂😂

We’ve been coming here since Hawklad was just starting school. Always the same routine. Find a parking spot where you can see the beach, let Hawklad see how busy it is. Too busy for him and we drive off, no questions asked. If it’s quiet enough, we hit the beach. Sometimes we don’t even park up, if the car park is busy, the beach will be.

So how does he manage concerts and now a F1 race.

We have a routine. Always try to buy the two seats at the end of a row, the back or front rows are best. If those seats aren’t available, then we don’t go. It’s the same for the cinema, has to be the two end seats on the front row. Hawklad takes the end of row seat. Sometimes that’s not enough and Hawklad decides it’s still too much. There have been a few concerts, movies and a football matches where it just never happened, still feeling too crowded, just never felt right for Hawklad.

At Silverstone it was even better, 168,000 watching an F1 race. But we still were able to find two end row seats, with no seats behind us. Plus next to our two seats was a roof support column, three more seats missing. Hawklad found space amongst the masses. All we had to do is arrive really early to miss the queues to get in, let Hawklad get to his seat before the crowd mayhem started. Setting off at 3.30am sorted that out.

That felt early, too early. Probably one of the reasons I’ve weathered worse than those beach poles.

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Letter to you

“Tried to summon all that my heart finds true
And send it in my letter to you”

The words of Bruce Springsteen in LETTER TO YOU

Eight years back, when we were going through Mum’s house we came across a letter. Not to us, but still a letter. A decades old letter that indicated Dad had been married and divorced before he met Mum. We had no idea. Without finding that letter we would never have found out. I can imagine asking Mum …..

Why didn’t you or Dad mention this small fact…..

And I can already hear Mum’s response ‘Well you never asked dear, now go and put the kettle on, there is an old Clark Gable movie starting on the telly in a couple of minutes…..”

A friend in the village once told me that after his partner died he found a LETTER. A beautiful letter from his partner which talked about unbreakable love, wonderful times, happy memories and the best of times. The letter also talked about starting again, finding happiness, living life and maybe love again.

Definitely summoning all that my heart finds true.

I found a LETTER TO ME. With trepidation I opened the letter addressed to me. Not from the end but from a few years back. My partner liked to go on overseas solo adventures and I guess before every trip she wrote a letter just in case the worst happened. One of those letters had become hidden in other stuff and had become long forgotten.

I didn’t find too many expressions of love, no heartfelt messages. This LETTER TO ME basically reminded me to

  • Inform X,Y and Z.
  • To stop her Accountancy Subscription Fees.
  • Cancel her hair and dentist appointments.
  • To check her clothes pockets before I take them to the charity shop.
  • Make sure I clean her car out properly before I sell it.
  • Don’t forget to paint the front door.
  • Remember to put the bins out on a Tuesday…..

Not sure that’s the kind of thing Bruce was writing about in his song.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 37 Comments

Somethings are written in Stone

It’s been hot here, well hot for Yorkshire. Touching 30C for day after day. On top of that, it’s been seriously dry this year. Our area was the first in the country to get a hosepipe ban. Hardly a drop of rain for weeks, the reservoirs are no more than a third full. We do need RAIN.

Some things are just written in Stone…..

Hawklad loves F1 motor racing, so this year he got his first taste of seeing it for real.

The British Grand Prix at Silverstone. 165,000 fans about to get VERY WET.

Even the Drivers getting very wet….

One support race Red Flagged and stopped as the track was too dangerous.

Talk about four seasons in one day. Blazing sunshine, fork lightning, sudden wind storms, torrential rain.

But thankfully there was just enough blazing sunshine and three of the biggest sponges ever…

Hawklad got to see his first live F1 race.

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Cracks

Time does fly by.

It’s now over two decades living here in this part of Yorkshire. Those twenty odd years have added shedloads of wear and tear to me but I’m not the only thing looking increasingly weathered.

When we first moved here, the back lane was almost pristine. As I walked it today I noticed cracks, lots of cracks. Cracks all along its two miles.

I can vaguely recall some of the plans and thoughts we had for the future. Being here for that length of time wasn’t in the plans. But then again we envisioned a much smoother road ahead. The reality was way different, way more difficult. For long periods that road was a nightmare. I really don’t think that I would recognise the guy I was back then. Not only am I more weathered, I’m definitely changed as a person, some might say, cracked. How often the road we take does that to us.

As cracked as that road is I suspect it can still be repaired at least superficially way easier than I can.

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Grand Old Castle

Brough Castle, built around 1092 on the grounds of an old Roman fort.

Once a grand old well kept castle. Once an impressive, seemingly impenetrable fortress. Attacked by an army from Scotland, destroyed and rebuilt. Rebuilt to be stronger, even more impenetrable. It was for 250 years…..

Then it met its new destroying army in the form of a Christmas Party… in a desperate attempt to cook the Brussel Sprouts properly, a fire broke out, destroying much of the castle.

OK I’m guessing on the Pesky Green Veg Villain, but something went badly wrong with that Christmas Feast in 1521.

The castle was partly rebuilt in the 17th century, but within a couple of years, fire struck again. Maybe don’t have 24 fireplaces…..The harsh northern weather has subsequently taken its toll since then.

Far too many children in the UK never get the support they need from the health and education systems. Hawklad was fortunate, it took over two years but he finally started to get some of the support he needed. Over the years that support made a real difference.

Then the day he reached 18, it was pulled. There is no equivalent adult support service. It’s only been a few months since then but I have started to see some changes, not positive ones. Hard earned progress starting to slow, halt or even reverse.

How many more are in the same position.

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Cliff

Every passing storm takes a piece out of this cliff. ,

Thinking about it, that can feel like life sometimes.

It feels like that every passing storm takes a little piece out of me.

Feels like there has been a few of those passing storms since our world changed nearly 9 years ago.

Or maybe, just like that cliff, each storm just helps reshape me a little more……

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Tree house

Now that’s a proper tree house…

You just never know.

There is a chap in the village. Seems a really happy chap, enjoying retired life. Always pleasant, probably smiles more than me. Easy to talk to. Seems to have plenty of friends in the village and always visiting. He walks with a stick, doesn’t walk too far but manages to spend a lot of time with his wife in their perfect, beautiful garden. They seem so relaxed.

This week I found out that he is really struggling with depression, has been for a couple of years now. He is deeply unhappy with retired life. Deteriorating Mobility issues forced him to give up his much loved job. He is unable to take part in his favourite hobbies now, golf, cycling, hillwalking, ballroom dancing, tennis. He feels like he has to spend far too much time in the garden these days. Even their holidays have changed. Once active, exploring filled adventures are now quite limited, quiet, sitting by a pool, in a cafe or on a patio holidays, plenty of time to read. The type of holiday they both always wanted to avoid.

I had no idea.

You just never know.

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Bruce

There are concerts and then there are CONCERTS….

Just a bit closer to the stage than the last time we saw BRUCE.

It’s strange how life works out sometimes. When I was much younger, I really wanted to see Bruce but the stars wouldn’t quite align. There was also quite a bit of that ‘shedloads of time in my pockets’ thing going on with me. No rush, plenty of time to sort stuff out.

But the years and decades rolled on. Bruce got older. I got older. That growing, nagging feeling, is there really plenty of time.

Then life hit the buffers. Bereavement. Single Parenting. Life felt like it had stopped. Permanently stopped. Bucket list stuff, things like seeing Bruce seemed like a million miles away and ever receding in the rear view mirror.

But slowly life started to spin again. A different life. Now a growing realisation that I won’t figure most things out in life, why things happen when they happen or don’t happen. That really clever, brilliant stuff is way beyond my pay grade. The other growing realisation, we really don’t have plenty of time in this life, but maybe, just maybe most of us will be given ENOUGH time to get enough done. Enough time to learn and grow. Enough time to experience enough in life, the good, the bad. It’s how we use that time, what guides us, our priorities, the choices we make, the doors that are opened for us, the doors that are closed to us, how we deal with the stuff of life.

No Bruce for decades and then wonderfully, unexpectedly, twice in 13 months. It’s a funny old life.

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Coast to coast

England is a relatively small country.

You read these epic driving blogs, taking days, weeks to travel across a land. Less so epic here. On a good afternoon you can get from North East to North West coasts, the biggest challenge being the never ending motorway roadworks.

This week we kinda did that mini adventure. A trip from our Yorkshire home to the North West edge, Liverpool….. Took just over two hours.

Then 2 days later we stood on the North East edge of England. From our home, just over 40 minutes….

122 miles apart. A famous old city port versus a small old fishing village. Vastly different accents, same WIND….