granite boulders – derrickjknight

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Today I continued the scanning of colour negatives made in Cumbria on 18th August 1992, and last mentioned in ‘Welcome To The World’.

We visited a popular boating lake,

on which Jessica rowed our friend Alison Barran.

I have occasionally mentioned my fear of heights. This is described in particular in ‘Vertigo’.

Jessica never gave up trying to get me up mountains. Place Fell, which we scaled on the day in question was a case in point.

A sparkling waterfall fairly near the bottom was not too scary. I could have settled for that.

The cleft in this granite boulder was an example of the rugged nature of the terrain.

Others littered the sloping hillsides on which hikers had trodden a clear path along which Jessica fearlessly strode,

eventually reaching the summit. In order to avoid any misunderstanding I am honour bound to state that

I may just about have managed to stand at a high point to depict her gazing across the lumpy terrain,

but there was no way it would have been perched alongside this marker cairn.

Indeed I felt more than somewhat queasy enough when taking some of these shots on the way up. Note the sheep in the second picture.

Unfortunately most of the compositions did not lend themselves to cropping out the unsightly date stamp.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s Post House Pie served with carrots, green beans, and cauliflower. Dessert was lemon Swiss roll and vanilla ice cream. I finished the Bordeaux.

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On this pleasant but blustery day , I spent a while reading on the Ace Reclaim bench. My current novel is ‘The Death of the Heart’ by Elizabeth Bowen. Naturally, my eyes wavered to take in the views offered from this vantage point.

Straight ahead is the Palm Bed and beyond;

to my left the path continues past the Fiveways chimney pot;

and back to the house to my right.

Later, I scanned some colour negatives of a holiday Jessica, Sam, Louisa, and I took in Devon with a neighbouring family in September 1983. We are no longer in touch with these friends, so I do not have their permission to post photographs of them and their children. However, I am able to publish

the Dart Valley Railway train and platform,

including the steam dome from the historic engine.

I don’t remember exactly where we stayed, but our entrance into the guest house was never to be forgotten. We arrived when all the other residents were eating. As we trooped through the dining room, Sam announced to the assembled company, ‘I’ve got nits’. We then quickened our paces somewhat.

Perhaps it was on Dartmoor that we came across