It’s a question of stile…

so whilst I’ve been rambling amongst the ruminants ruminating and rhapsodising over rural rarities I’ve reflected on things various and my dominant pensee du jour was about the variety of stiles. The Yorks ones appear to be primarily either those that are simply a gap in the dry stone wall that is almost as large as a grown man’s hips but markedky less than that of a someone laden with a rucksack (hence necessitating a form of manoeuvre that would earn some sort of comment on Strictly (whatever that is)) or the type that do have some lateral stone steps at irregular intervals proceeding up the side of the wall that lead to an equally straitened gap but this time guarded by a ‘snapper gate’ that once opened has been cunningly designed to stay open for a period of time roughly equivalent to 1/4 to 3/4 of the time needed to traverse the obstacle.

One day a definitive guide on such matters will be published, to be found in dusty bookshops on the shelf next to ’roundabouts of Britain’ (take a bow Swindon) and fly fishing by J R Hartley.

as foreshadowed in yesterday’s blog today was another half day as far as walking was concerned. The mistake I made was not making any mistakes – all turns successfully made and here about lunchtime . I have been kicking my unbooted heels ( ?  apparently Steve Jobs’ boys think this will be an appropriate picture at this stage … have they seen me on Weds afternoons?!) and have looked at tomorrow’s route enough times to have it memorised. Even found a Times ( yesterday’s) and read it cover to cover. I’m biting at the bit a bit…. the weather of course looks great this afternoon and I’m a bit frustrated… here’s the view from my window.

Sigh…

Fingers crossed for tomorrow… today was 12 miles and 24,000 steps. And

Stroll on