Friday 2nd July, on the site of Hartington Railway Station.
It is more less taken for granted that, despite no apparent let up in the spread of the Delta variant of coronavirus, we should be coming out of lock-down, a fortnight on Monday. Our hugely respected Minister for Health, who had guided “his” people through the pandemic since its beginnings in early 2020, last week, was caught on camera with his trousers not quite down, violating his own rules, and generating, justly, the wrath and indignation of just about everybody, and causing his “understanding” gaffer yet another uncomfortable battering at last Wednesday’s PMQs. I’m sure the now non-religious Sir Keir was rather pleased with this unexpected gift from God!
Far away from all this (of which, actually, I know next to nothing), I am, for the second time this month, enjoying the legacy of the London and North Western, whose railway, back in the day, wended its wonderful way through the magnificent countryside of the Derbyshire Dales. While I always lament that the line from Ashbourne to Buxton was dismantled over fifty years ago, had trains still been running, these wonderful walks would not be available to the many more who come now than travelled then.
Summer might have been slow to come, but June, and now, the first two days of July have, generally, been extremely nice. I am now about half way back to Parsley Hay, seated on a wooden bench placed opposite an abundance of open countryside, in memory of Ray Reading, 1949 – 2003. I, too, was born in 1949...
Yesterday, I arranged my travel insurance for next year’s journey taking in Japan, and a sizeable chunk of the United States, zig-zagging cross the Continent on Mr Biden’s beloved Amtrak. The twenty four days I will have to travel from Vancouver to New York will pass quickly, as my home for several of those days will be (hopefully) a bedroom on numerous overnight trains. I am back at Parsley Hay now. It was a little crowded, but the walkers and cyclists in the main have gone on their way. Yesterday, I was warned that the weather would change today; it didn’t. I’m now reliably informed that tomorrow is going to be wet. It is humid today, and perhaps a good thunderstorm might clear the air. But I like it as it is. The bacon and sausage bap I enjoyed at Parsley Hay will deputise for lunch; a sardine salad being tonight’s evening meal, in the hopes I can ascertain that I’m not allergic to all fish. Recently, I have felt slightly ill after eating fish, which is a great pity.
Sunday 4th July 181st Anniversary of the Cunard Line first voyage from Liverpool to Halifax Nova Scotia and Boston, Mass. U.S.A.
Ye Gods! Is it really six years since the Cunard 175 celebrations of 2015? There was to be some kind of marking of the 180th anniversary last year, but, the pandemic put paid to any celebration or event, including the Tokyo Olympics. With robust determination, both the postponed Olympics and Buxton International Festival are going ahead this year; Buxton Festival opening on Thursday with a gala performance of A Little Night Music.
Monday 5th July. How things change! I cannot see Malcolm Fraser or Anthony Hose being particularly impressed by the offerings of this year’s opening night. I, myself, am not really a fan of musicals, and I don’t really relish the thought of sitting in a “socially distanced” opera house, while the pandemic persists. I may think differently after July 8th, the Buxton International Festival’s opening night.
Lunch with Roger, yesterday, at the 53 Degrees North eatery was followed (reluctantly) by a walk along part of the High Peak Trail. Clouds of dark grey threatened an imminent downpour, but any substantial drenching would have occurred later in the day; I did get drenched visiting an elderly friend in Buxton in the evening. I came home at around 10 o’clock and after trawling various YouTube channels, went to bed shortly after midnight. Today, I had (and enjoyed) coffee at the Pavilion Gardens with a church colleague. Past times were recalled with some “mixed feelings”. Part of me laments the less traditional direction the Anglican Church might be going, rather like the speedy transition from steam to diesel and electric traction on the railways in the 1960s. Only in 1973 when my footplate career began, was I rather thankful! The Last Steam Train ran on August 11th, 1968. I was there, and a rare surviving poster graces my landing!
My quest to walk 3 million steps between June 1st and May 31st next year is already behind schedule. I took it easy in June, but at the beginning of July, I resumed in earnest, and the target remains just within reach. Eventually, this will become a “raising effort”. And, my blogs will be headed with an incomprehensible series of numbers, as previously!
Our revered prime minister is scheduled to speak to the Nation this afternoon to confirm or otherwise our exit from this present lock-down in a fortnight. My blogs will no longer be headed by day-numbers, and with luck, the next “Day 1” will signify the start of next year’s World tour by plane, ship, and numerous trains. That’s assuming I have dodged the “Delta bullet”, and any departure is not “from this life!” Even today, life feels as if it has returned (almost) to normal. But, each day, covid death numbers are announced in a matter of fact manner…just imagine if these deaths occurred in high rises or air disasters, with similar regularity. As they say in church, there would be “hell-up!”
Many thanks for reading, David, The Tradesman’s Entrance, Monday 5th July 2021.
David's Cruise 