Photograph Quiz:
Photo no. 49:- Why is this Olympian and former world record holder shaking my hand? Or am I shaking his hand? Where were we? What was the occasion? Who is he?
Dear Blog,
Did you see a new bright twinkling star in the sky last night? I think there may be one more angel in heaven, one more star in the sky.
Why?
Went out for a trudge yesterday, up in Yorkshire, over the Dales and far away for 2 hours and 55 minutes (Impressed Blog??). All very lonely. Saw a couple of walkers just after I started out along the river bank, and a pair of mountain bikers as I began to climb up the first Hill past Percival Hall. And there you have it, not another sole. No body. Well, except for one; read on. As a precaution, I do leave a note on the car dashboard when I go off road into the wilderness stating my rough route and a generous E.T.A. in case I do one of my diving acts and cause myself some personal damage. At least, if the locals see the car parked up for a couple of weeks, they will have a rough idea where to find a body!!! Up I went. Nackering. Near the hill ridge, I came to within a mile of Pately Bridge where my sister and I had the pleasure of staying in a children’s home for some time when we were young. I tracked the ridge until I came to the cross route I used to use 50 years ago, thinking that in this brave new world of Right to Roam legislation, the path would be well trodden. Was I wrong, or was I wrong, Blog? A mile of stop, start, stop, stop, start did not help my mood with the chill wind not helping matters. On to the narrow path which would eventually drop down to the Wharfe, I had to be extra careful with the sheer drop on one side, no time now Colin to have a chat with Heather. Then I saw him. Coming towards me occupying the whole width of the path was a walker waving his arms about. A big chap. The closer I got, the more agitated his waving became. Trouble? Accident? Nutter? He greeted me like a long lost mate. ‘Colin Kirkham’ he said. ‘That’s a coincidence’ I said, ‘That’s my name too.’ ‘No I mean your name is Colin Kirkham.’ He said. ‘Yes, I know,’ I replied ‘ I already know that, it’s been that for a number of years now.’ I am getting worried; a Nutter with a capital ‘N’. ‘No’ he said ‘Let’s start again.’ Too steep to escape down there Colin, how do I pass him? ‘You’re Colin Kirkham’ ‘Yes, I’ve just said that I already know that. It was a decision my mum and dad made 65 years ago; it was entirely their fault. Bu to be fair they have stuck to it ever since. They have had no cause to change their minds’ ‘What a coincidence’. ‘What’ I said ‘A coincidence that we both have the same name?’ ‘No’ he said ‘you are just being silly now.’ I thought to myself that he was turning nasty; he’s a big bloke and I am miles from any help. The note I had left on the dashboard might come in handy after all. So, as Mr Murdoch used to say in his private paper before he murdered it, ‘I made my excuses and left.’! Quickly. Very Quickly! I looked back when I thought it was safe to do so. He was standing there waving his arms about shouting something about struck up grit, though why he was shouting about the millstone grit outcropping on the moors, I couldn’t quite comprehend. I soon dropped down off the wild moorlands to the relative tranquillity of the Wharfe. The river was in full spate after all the overnight rain, the Strid looking quite awesome as I passed.
Back at the car park, an old couple were in conversation with another motorist, clearly upset over something. ‘Not going in your direction, I am afraid.’ The motorist was telling them. ‘I am heading over to Lancashire’. (Sorry about the language Blog, I shall wash my mouth out, say three Hail Marys and flog myself each night for a week for absolution). I sat there exhausted, supping a defizzed coke. A couple of walkers passed and the old couple approached them. Obviously the old couple were retired Jehovah’s witnesses looking for converts? I tried not to notice what, they were telling the couple, but the passing walkers weren’t buying into the scheme, ‘No’ with a shake of the head. I suspected that the old pensioners were the parents of the Nutter on the Hill and were worried that he had not returned; should they be so lucky. Then it finally happened. I was slightly mad; they came round to my side of the car. Now Blog, tell me honestly, have I got MUG tattooed on my forehead, or have I got MUG tattooed on my forehead? Be brutally honest with me, don’t spare my feelings. They told me they had lost their car keys and couldn’t get reception on their mobile to summon help. Was I possibly travelling home near Addingham. I said that it was no sweat to go that way ... they were very old. I said wait five minutes until I had regained consciousness from my trudge, and I would take them. Where did they think they had lost the keys, I enquired of them. The old fella said that the only time they had opened their rucksack was at the Cavendish Cafe for lunch. I said that was on the way to Addingham and that it was sensible to call in there on the way. They might have a land line at the Cavendish Cafe which they could use to summon help. They agreed with the brilliance of my suggestion and clambered on board the automobile. I drove into the Cavendish and half way down the approach drive to the Cafe, the gatemen was selling parking permits. The old fella wanted to get out to talk to the gateman who was selling parking permits but I said leave it to me as I was quite good at acting stupid. I told the gateman who was selling the parking permits that I had an old couple in the car who had lost their car keys and they thought the said keys might have dropped out of their rucksack when the stopped at the Cafe for lunch and could I drive down to the cafe without purchasing a parking permit and check if the lost keys had been handed in. He said that that was OK but to report back to him on the way out which I promised to do because he was operating the barrier and I couldn’t get out without him raising the barrier. I parked up at the Cafe, the old lady got out and went to the Cafe, emerging after a few minutes waving the keys in triumph. The old man said they would walk back up the river bank to their car to save me a return journey as I had been very kind to have driven them so far. The old lady got back into the car and said would it be alright for me to run them back up the valley to the car as the old man had already walked five miles that day and that five miles was about his limit. Now, Blog, tell me honestly, have I got MUG tattooed on my forehead, or have I got MUG tattooed on my forehead? Be brutally honest with me, don’t spare my feelings. I ran them back. They did offer to pay but I said that it was OK if they sorted out a bright twinkling star in the sky for me. They said they would see what they could do. So Blog, did you see one more angel in heaven, one more star in the sky; a new bright twinkling star in the sky last night?
Colin
P.S. A question for you Blog. Should I have charged the old couple a few quids for my daughter’s charity Tiny Tims Children’s Centre?? Her half marathon is only a couple of weeks away.
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