“Time to reflect…” Monday 8th
I had to force myself to leave the house for a stroll tonight. And I had to on Friday last; Roger from over the road had suggested a walk in the dramatic area of Topley Pike, 4.7 miles out of Buxton on the A6 towards Bakewell, inspiration to Cunard, of what must be those world famous tarts, served as dessert at dinner on their ships. When I go on these walks, I am reminded that just about three years ago, my neighbours next door would support me on both sides as I struggled to the first lamp post on our road, maybe just ten or fifteen yards away. This was towards the end of May 2017 following (as most reading this blog are reminded repeatedly) open heart surgery. This was like the beginning of a second life, infinitely better than the first in that now, no longer had I to attend school and then, afterwards, earn a living!
The lovely warm spring weather of the last two weeks had given way to cool and wet influences from the north. This produced some interesting skies as the sun dipped behind the hills mid-evening. It had become cool for the time of year, but that’s not unusual for these parts.
I am now looking back to this time 45 years ago, when on June 2nd 1975, snow had fallen to such an extent that a County Cricket match had to be cancelled, “snow stopped play!” I had resolved to move out from my parent’s home in leafy Knutsford and live much nearer to my place of work, Buxton Traction Maintenance Depot from where I would eventually drive trains, both freight and local passenger. My original plan to live in a caravan was not really practical but now that I was in regular employment (but for how long was anyone’s guess…), it was possible to consider taking out a mortgage. This must have been one of the most exciting times in my life, looking for my own house. I brought Mother along on my searches for somewhere suitable, and eventually, where I still live, on Nettleton Lane, filled the bill nicely. Yes, it needed much work as the previous owner had knocked it around somewhat. Over the years, it had my much more conventional stamp over most of it.
Tonight, I walked beyond the former post office, now a private house, to the one time green railings from where I can look far into the rural distance towards Burbage and Macclesfield. It’s one of those views which changes each day. I reflected on those first days of living in a brand new town, and some of the adventures and events which filled the next forty-five years.
It was taking an evening stroll tonight that prompted me to write something a little bit different from the usual descriptions of lock-down. Forty five years ago, there was always that nagging threat of nuclear war. Maybe there still is. Coming back from South America this year, the Coronavirus situation was being taken very seriously by all those on board ship, crew, entertainers, waiters, barmen and passengers. We all were apprehensive about what would await us at Southampton. One eminent lecturer finished his presentation by saying, and now to Armageddon. And for over 40,000 he was (probably) right. The world is now vastly different to how it was at the beginning of January. I just missed the ghastly panic buying of mid-March and being over 70 & thus deemed vulnerable, I still have somebody to do my essential shopping. It didn’t take long to get used to that.
Two anniversaries therefore:- August, 45years since moving to Harpur Hill, and on October 15th, what would have been my grandfather’s 150th birthday. I find that my great great grandfather was born somewhere around 1807, in the reign of George lll. (1760 – 1820). No wonder I have gone grey!
I wonder if I keep writing these blogs, I may have eventually, enough material for the long since promised autobiography, “I wish I kept my Big Mouth Shut!”
On that note, folks, Stay Safe and Best Wishes, David. 23.38hrs.
David's Cruise 