Gelly Babes: February 2023

A-walking and a-snowdropping

8th February 2023

As we get older, we feel more rebellious. Agreeing to meet at the Sheepwash car park, doesn't mean that we actually need to park there. But we found each other and only one of us paid for the privilege. As it was a little bit chilly with the sun not yet pushing through enough, we decided on a brisk walk. So brisk in fact, that having stopped to take a photo, it was quite hard to catch up.

Wait for me!

On our way Pam saw a stranger wearing her exact same hat which she had lost on Monday. But, despite real encouragement from Maggie to 'go get her', Pam hoped it was just a bit of coincidence, and let things be. Why does she need another hat anyway?

We arrived at the bird hut with lots of information and Pam showed off her birding identification skills, carefully matching the beak to the bird.

M'lady sorting out ma'lard

But the real test was through the window, which was slightly steamed up, and the view not helped by steamed up glasses and likewise steamed up binoculars; even outside was still a bit misty across the water.

I don't know what I am until Pam finds me beak!

Pam finds a map and tries to plot a walking route back to Wirksworth avoiding the very busy road.

But private property blocks a logical right of way.

Are we ready for the right to ramble anywhere? (see book recommendation below). We look the part; have a good amount of dried mud on our boots.... or do we? Someone's boots look a bit squeaky clean but they were definitely worth buying in the half price sale.

How far up the ankle should the cuff be? Below or above the ankle?

We speed back along the path, chatting away and paused to check out the birds. Whilst waiting for anything to turn up, we listen to Alison's lovely stories: the buzzard which 'played dead' on the road, placed in a box for safety and then 'woke up'climbed out of the box and sat in the passenger seat of a car en route to the vets; and the one about the dead mole (which wasn't feigning anything) which demolished Alison's snowdrops in her one patch of loose soil in her garden.

Observed, but not photo'd, flock of tits and rampaging fat, grey squirrels.

We chatted about state pensions. Alison waiting for Helen, waiting for Alison, to see what to make of the new form and whether we can apply for both the New and the Old state pension (whichever pays out best, Alison). And, yes, we are ready to apply for our bus pass and can't wait to be called a 'bus w%#nker'!

We briefly say tata to Pam and head off down the winding lanes to our next destination admiring the rectory and its statue, other vast houses without statues, sheep, hedgerows and enjoy the laughter of children playing in the school playground (that's cos we're not in charge; hehe)

It is what it says on the sign.

Not much traffic; no pot holes!

Free to view and just as pretty as the Hopton ones.

We purchase our admission tickets to Hopton Hall, to discover that the KitKat bars on the table were not included. But they did tell us that Pam was round the bend; our lips are sealed. We found her basking in the sun in front of some posh cars.

Ready for soup, which was not on the menu, we all opted for a coffee and scone and settled down to our usual chat about holidays (plenty of snow for skiing, boozy cruisers rum punched-out on idyllic Caribbean beaches, adventure holidays vs relaxing ones). Breaking the rules of watching TV during the day being essential when binge-watching cracking good shows. . Holidays to be taken on TV locations. Happy Valley vs Line of Duty? (Alison looks bemused). Firesticks , not the BBQ ones (the rest of us are bemused). How we are quite content with our characterful wrinkly faces.