Day 476 “Almost there”.

I think it was sometime in the late 1970s that I was last in the Assembly Rooms in what was, and now is again, The Crescent Hotel, Buxton. Except that, by the time I was there, it was the Local Library and you could borrow recorded music as well as books. This part of the Crescent Hotel has, along with the rest of the building, been restored magnificently, to the highest degree. As I have said previously, the restoration of The Crescent has been worth the wait.

The “east end” of *The Crescent, Buxton.* These stairs lead from the ground floor to the beautifully restored Assemby Rooms. However, this is not a good venue for lectures and talks; the echo (especially at the back) distorts what is being spoken, making speech hard to discern.

DAY 477 Saturday 17th July

This morning, I had the privilege (and pleasure) of driving yesterday’s speaker at The Crescent, whom I had difficulty hearing because of the acoustics of the Assembly Rooms, to Macclesfield for her train journey to mid-Wales. I was assured the usual route was now open; it wasn’t and a six mile diversion in fairly heavy traffic caused her to miss her planned train, just by a mere two minutes. The belief that U.K trains are always late is a fallacy; they are sometimes, but not when you want them to be! However, a service via Shrewsbury was an almost immediate alternative, but involving a couple more changes of train.

Driving back, traffic to Buxton was still diverted from Macclesfield Town Centre, and I, therefore, chose the opportunity to revisit (or merely drive past) the haunts of a previous life. The girl I met at a concert in Manchester in 1968 will be 69 now! Oh how I recall (with minimal regret now) a slight but attractive figure, in a turquoise summer dress, with chestnut hair flowing in abundance over her shoulders. I recall numerous visits to the elevated bungalow where she grew up, with magnificent views of a nearby wooded escarpment. Very occasionally, and only when the opportunity presents itself, I do like to revisit this still wonderful and almost haunting part of the Country. The trouble is, so does everybody else these days. There was nowhere to park at Rudyard Lake!

Soon, I was on my way back to Buxton and having lunch with a friend and colleague with The Festival whom I have now known for almost thirty years.

It’s not usually weather like this in Buxton! *The Opera House and Pavilion Gardens.*

Eventually, I returned home, feeling guilty that I had not watered the hanging baskets and flower planters in the back garden. This I shall do in the cool of tonight. I still have a half-full (not half empty!) waterbutt of actual rainwater which I trust my withered plants will appreciate.

Tomorrow is the last day of (most) covid/pandemic restrictions. From Monday, hugging each other, and shaking hands will be “legal”. Recently, I read a dire account of God’s displeasure in the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (Ch. 24), and the catastrophies which occurred back to back, between 740 and 680 B.C. All good stuff, but with an alarming ring of similarity with today…whoops! Don’t worry ‘though, I am assured all this is contextual.

Tomorrow, Day 478 will mark the end of numbering the days since March 27th 2020, the day I travelled home from Southampton along eerily quiet roads and motorways to a deserted Buxton, engulfed in the first of (I think) three lockdowns, when I couldn’t even get a haircut! In some ways, 478 days doesn’t seem a long time; in other ways, an eternity. I detect little optimism from Monday. The Festival has another week to run, and is bathed probably in some of the best weather ever. Maybe I wrote too soon!

I realise that I am probably a “fairweather” walker and that it doesn’t take much to postpone a planned hike. However, right now, it really is too hot! I had planned to walk on Thursday, but felt too “drained.” If not too warm in the morning, I shall walk to Church, for a Festival Mass, where the Eucharist is set to works by various composers. Even with restricted numbers of singers and players, these Church services are always very special and worth attending in their own right. With strict social distancing, the church will still feel full tomorrow.