There is just such a look of contentment on the face of this sheep, as it has a rest from its communal troughing. I guess with all those fleeces on each side it must be pretty warm and stuffy down there; no wonder they were all taking breathers now and again.
A June walk, and another chance to experience the British weather’s propensity to change from balmy to, if not exactly wintry, then definitely cold and grey over the course of 24 hours. This is why the sheep have better insulation than we do. Stoodley Pike appears for the nth time: it might not be a very prominent peak topographically but the monument on it proves it can be seen for many miles in every direction.
Grey Friar, 2,536 feet high, is one of the Coniston fells of Lakeland; this picture is taken from its western side, in the Duddon Valley. The pose of the sheep was too good to ignore, though yes, maybe this would be better still without the foliage to bottom right. But I like the composition in any case. (For more from today see my Wainwrights blog.)
As the country spirals back down into a stupid, paranoid and self-deluding feeling of ‘safety’, I’ve given up trying to talk to anyone about this so will just carry on doing my thing, including all activities which are health-giving and beneficial. The Lake District seems a fine setting for just that sort of thing. This is the National Park’s 150th appearance on this blog; an average of over once a month, which emphasises its value. ‘Work from home’? Bollocks to it. That will kill us all, faster than anything else.
It’s just a field, home these days to a number of sheep (two of whom were a source of great interest to the visitor at the bottom of the pic). But on October 14th 1066, around 7,000 men were slaughtered here in one day at the Battle of Hastings, and the victor, Duke William of Normandy, instituted a regime that, basically, continues to rule the island of Great Britain into the present time. (One wonders how different human history might have been if the two antagonists, neither of whom had a particularly direct claim to the throne of England, had just cut cards for the privileged, or agreed to do six months a year each.)
It is understandable that the tourists would want to come and see the place — as we did on this pleasant, bright Sunday. But I guess the import of what happened on this spot 956 years ago, the scale of the death and mayhem, will never be fully apparent. These days we walk round and take our pictures and listen to the soothing tones of the ‘audio guide’ and then go and have lunch in the nearby pub. Battle is worth a visit though, whether you are English or not.
Note also — it’s day 3,650. But thanks to three leap years having interspersed themselves over the last decade, I am not quite at the point where I have completed 10 years of this blog. I assume I will make it to Wednesday, though.
A very fine day was had in the Lake District. Even the sheep seemed to be enjoying it, and this ewe poses readily for the camera as they often do, with High Pike behind. A shame her lamb did not feel like joining in too, but one can’t have everything. (For more pictures from today, see my Wainwrights blog.)
I don’t know who or what has been the oldest living creature to feature on the blog: there has been one confirmed nonagenarian (Clare’s gran) but more likely it’s some tree somewhere or other. But I can now declare this lamb to be the youngest. If this had been born much before 3.50pm today I would be surprised. The caul is still very obvious and being cleaned off by the mother ewe. It’s eyes are open, and it was beginning to move. Quite a sight in fact.
Now here’s a fairly unique combination: witnessed on the edge of Burnley this afternoon. But as I typed the title of this post, it struck me that it sounded like one of those ‘what 3 words’ geolocation things. So I tried it, and magnificently, “goalie.pylon.llama” does correspond to a 3 x 3m square of land on South Island, New Zealand, to the west of the town of Greymouth — as this page proves. There could be a whole new game in this.
And yes, football’s back. In some ways, anyway.
Anyone in Britain will tell you that the weather over the last two days has been extremely pleasant. I’m off work for a while, too. I think the relaxed appearance of these lambs is something I can identify with. Mum? Well, she’s just knackered.
As we approach the first anniversary of the Great Fear, Saturdays have largely become the most uneventful day of the week. My activity, or otherwise, on them has become governed by the weather. This aftenroon was very pleasant — so out I went. The local sheep population had a spring in its step, too.
Being 42 