Slaithwaite to Hebden Bridge 29/08/20

17.9 miles, via Crimble, Wellhouse, Bolster Moor, Clough Head, Quebec, Croft House Moor, 
 Camp Hill, Scammonden Dam, Meg Dike, Krumlin, Slack, Ripponden, Royd Lane, 
  Cross Wells, Blackshaw Clough, Lighthazles, Cross Dikes, Flints (moor & reservoir), 
   Slate Delfs, Sykes Gate, Turvin Clough, Cove Hill, Hove Yards Wood, Turley Holes Edge, 
    Withens Clough Reservoir, Higher Moor, Sunderland Pasture, Higham, Erringden Moor, 
     Cock Hill Moor, Wood Top, and Crow Nest Wood. 

When I initially planned for a long August Bank Holiday weekend, between my usual breaks in July and September, it was in the hope that I might be able to travel away for my own solo holiday and burn a few trails that bit further from home than usual, but pandemic circumstances have transpired to render it as my first and only opportunity to get together with my family this summer, and thus the walking options have to be reduced to fit that in, as well as clearing away a lot of necessary housework that has lain fallow since my walking year resumed, on the early days. So as Mum is travelling up on the Saturday evening, it again pays to ride out early to do yet another trail from Colne to Calder, which should be the last of them, alighting in the sunshine at Slaithwaite station at 8.35am, and setting course for possibly the easiest of all the route out of the valley to the north, favouring the long and slow ascent that can be found by heading east, following Station Road as it passes below the high stone retaining walls that contain the remnants of the original station buildings and foot tunnel, heading down to pass below Crimble viaduct. This leads us to the Swan inn, and the heart of the sub-village of Crimble, where our lane ascends up the valley side on as shallow and angle as is plausible, with Radcliffe Road raising itself beyond the terraces, through the wooded bank and on upwards through the suburban outliers that have chosen their perch over the Colne valley very carefully, ahead of the hidden hamlet of hilltop and up to the emerging view downstream towards Titanic Mill at Linthwaite and back to Deer Hill and Pule Hill at the valley head. It might be the long way round, but its worth it to emphasise the scenic potential of the valley, one that's a bit too easy to disregard, and you do wonder if Westwood House and the nearby rural terraces arrived here to absorb the views deliberately, beyond which we locate the village of Wellhouse, where the village school possibly has one of the best views of any educational establishment, and the rural weavers cottages of the upper village pile up haphazardly, beyond which we start our rise out of the valley after a good mile in the 'wrong' direction by hitting Copley Bank Road. This rises us above the wooded side valley that cleaves this side of the Colne, beyond which Golcar can be seen, scattered down its own hillside, looking like a model village with its cottages and terraces best arranged to exploit the sunlight needed for domestic weaving, with our route finally tending northwest as we rise above to an expanding downstream view, while we are directed steeply uphill towards Heath House Mill and the Bank End terraces, later arrivals on the woollen industry scene in this valley.

Crimble Viaduct, Slaithwaite, with Nova.

The long rise of Radcliffe Road.

Upper Wellhouse.

High view to Golcar.

We land on the high apron of fields above the Colne Valley, on which the village of Bolster Moor spreads, at over 270m up which means there's wind up here that we didn't feel below, and we join Bolster Moor Road as it projects us northwesterly, beyond the old Baptist Chapel and among the rural terraces and suburban growth that doesn't mind the altitude that much, passing the farm shop and the Colne Valley Circualr path, gaining the view up to Scapegoat Hill as we project a way out of the valley, to the west of the looming Wholestone Hill, which we approach across the open fields, ahead of the other Baptist Chapel, sitting at a remove from its constituency at Clough Head. The village school here might also vie for best view in the county as it sits above Crimble Clough and the most direct route down to Slaithwaite, which we trailed so many months ago, and this hamlet is passed through as Waller Clough Road snakes its way around the head of the water spill and head up towards the higher expanse above the Colne Valley, giving us a remarkable range of views to the east, with the Aire valley power stations emerging as we pass above Upper Field farm, toward the looming valley ridge. The view opens up as we cross the Kirklees Way route at the Rochdale Road corner, gaining the masts on Pole Moor and the bulk of Worts Hill on our forward horizon, with the high panorama above the Colne valley head also emerging as the wind that comes in from the north catches us with its full force, as we progress along Quebec Road, which allegedly names a hamlet that cannot be seen among these rough fields at moorland altitude, below the purple topped Wholestone Moor, the mass that our road is avoiding cresting over. You'd probably expect to find a shed with a built in view by a cottage up here, as you would a house with a white rose proudly displayed on its gable wall, facing Lancashire off to the west, but a physio clinic in an old farmstead is not what you'd think you'd find as we pass over the watershed between the Colne and the Blackburne, beyond which our view over Calderdale and the long route to come unfolds, blessed by sunshine as we head down to meet the forgotten trans-Pennine route of the A640 New Hey Road, which we land on by the Lower Royal George inn. Not sure where the Upper one might be, but our path passes behind it, going off-road on the damp fields of Croft House Moor, with the M62 carving its path to the immediate north of us, and cattle ruminating among the fields that we have to pass through, passing safely behind wall and fence between them and the towering wind turbines of Daisy Hill farm as we are drawn down to Hey Lane via a rough and undulating farm track.

Bolster Moor.

Clough Head and the way to Wholestone Hill.

The Pole Moor masts and Worts Hill.

The Lower Royal George, New Hey Road.

The turbines on Croft House Moss.

Hello to another seasonal route we thus say as we cross to meet Pinfold Lane, as it drops us down below the northern side of Worts Hill, and then join Green Slacks Road as it rise between the farmstead on the fringe of moorland height, rising up to the Camp Hill terrace with a view down the Blackburne Valley before progressing to the Scammonden Kennel and Cattery, and only realising that I hadn't intended to take this path as it lands us on Chapel Hill Lane, by the car parks provided by Yorkshire Water that have the best sort of view over Scammonden Water. It seems routes will converge up here if we don't want to test a tougher valley traversal downstream, but a circuit of the reservoir will have to be shorn from this trip so as not to put the mileage on the wrong side of too far as we join the snaking path down the western bank, splitting onto the dam passage mid way down and feeling pleased to see the surface of the water in the sunshine as we pass along its northern face, below the edge of M62 as it passes over too. As work on the anti-suicide fence on Scammonden Bridge is ongoing to the west, we are thus compelled under the motorway for second time at the western bank, and engage the path up to the old Scammonden Road for a third time, to enhance the feeling of being magnetically drawn to this quarter as we head north on the west side of the valley again, still admiring the views that all the cottages from Hudson Croft to Myrtle Grove possess, up to the dam, across to Crow Edge and downstream towards Greetland. Gloominess starts to take hold as a new path is gained as we carry on north, past the supposed ancient earthworks of Meg Dike, which may be of Roman origin, but are actually obscured by a later quarry remnant adjacent to it, forming one of a few fragments of extreme vintage up on this hillside which we progress along, above the farmsteads down in  the valley and in the direction of another would be hamlet, which may be Haugh Top or Wood Head, now providing country retreats with a view, ahead of passage of the pylons across the Pennines and the turn towards Ringstone Edge reservoir, right on the high crest above. We find our best view downstream on the Blackburne from up here too, the valley having made a rather incidental impression on today's trip, but it seems that someone up here has figured that the aspect to the east is worthy of developing their dream house, so building work abounds at the roadside as we make our way into the hamlet of Krumlin, which I've already observed as potentially Welsh, thus spoiling my only joke for the day as we find that this settlement seemed to exist solely to serve the mill that once produced wool up here, of which only the manger's house remains, with the main site now home to a suburban close, miles from the nearest town.

The ascent to the Camp Hill terrace.

Scammonden Water and the valve tower.

Passing below the M62 once again.

Meg Dike earthworks and quarry remnants.

Krumlin Mill House.

With the Blackburne Valley done for another day, we need to make our next transition, by passing over into the Ryburn, which can be soon be spied as we hit Causeway, leading us behind Krumlin Hall and its lodge cottage, with the farm track beyond cresting us over the ridge that almost grazes moorland altitude on its way through the fields, with the Manshead to Crow Hill ridge rising ahead, which our day is aiming over the middle of, ahead of the view opening out to encompass Ovenden Moor beyond the Calder Valley, and Norland Moor ahead of it, teasing apparent proximity to the north and unexplored hills to the south. The upper Ryburn, beyond the remote and overflowing Baitings dam, will have to wait though, as our route goes straight across its middle, as we pass over the B6114 and join Rishworth Road as to passes down through Slack hamlet, which is swelling slightly in a sub-urban fashion as bucolic aromas off set the appeal of also having Just Jenny's ice cream factory on its doorstep, before we turn off the elevated east side of the valley, turning onto Fiddle Lane and getting our westward panorama expanding as we come below Hazlegreave hill, where the air resounds with the sound of much rumination from the local dairy cows. Ripponden is revealed strung out in the valley below as we come down to meet its New Bank road, which we land on very near its top, but have to ascend slightly to join the Old Bank, to hairpin sharply back by the Belle Vue cottage as there is no way to head down even more steeply than the roads allow, and that's us touching base with the Calderdale Way for the first time today as we pound the tarmac and setts down through the angled fields on this side of the valley, almost eight years since we last passed this way, finding that nought has changed above the Hanging Stones Wood. Entering the town through its suburban houses and older cottages, we not that the passage of the old railway, south of Ripponden station, has to be imagined aggressively, ahead of the bottom of the Bank Road, across from the old village school and just above St Bart's church, the height of which is obscured by its valley location, beyond which we cross over the Ryburn via the old bridge, noting that the Old Bridge Inn has made constructive use of its car park for socially distanced drinking. Ascend Priest Lane to meet the A58 by the Ripponden Club, and pause for an early lunch break at a familiar corner before we press on with the trail and our next ascent, away from the town with Royd Land, past the flats that I failed to acknowledge on our last passage, ahead of us burning a new route uphill, past the Old Gaol cottage and steeply onwards past the considerable Royd farm complex and the Dry Houses terrace as the day's sunshine has its last hurrah, right on the cusp of midday.

Causeway and the way into the Ryburn.

Slack hamlet and Norland Moor.

Ripponden Old Bank.

The Old Bridge Inn, Ripponden.

The Old Gaol, Royd Lane.

So gloom abounds as we land in the afternoon, rising on past the Royd Lane cottages and some sizeable retaining walls containing the fields to the south, ahead of us landing on the corner by the Beehive inn, where we switch onto Cross Wells Road, which starts us off across the high fields to the west of this valley, leading us towards farmsteads which congregate in a way that ought to suggest the presence of a named hamlet, ahead of taking an interest in the fruiting bushes at the roadside that I just cannot identify, before we land on the junction that exposes us to the wind that blows in from the north, which is far too cold for a late August weekend. Don the waterproofs as a windcheater to protect us as we pass the Lower Cross Wells farm and get a grand view across the upper reaches of the Severhills Clough woods as we come down to meet our path from last weekend, this time descending from the Causeway Head cottage cluster down to Blackshaw Clough bridge, noting that the stream is much charging louder than last time, and also that the equestrian stables and liveries at Clough House are owned by the Horsfall family, which amuses me more than it ought. Rise beyond Lane Ends house and meet the split in the lane that takes us onto Lighthazles Chapel Road, and this hamlet has very little to it, despite forming a pretty bold triangle in the local lanes, and having spied only one dream house of note, we are soon rising away from it, on the ascending grassy bridleway that shadows the descending ditch of Cross Dikes Clough, which gives us some nasty going as we push up to the next lane up, where the Calderdale Way brought us in 2012, by way of the Ripponden Christmas Tree farms, the conifers of which are planted in the fields below the Hole Head farms and Cross Dikes Lane. I can't be too sure of the route I plotted as we hit these high lanes, so the next stretch, onto Ash Hall Lane might have been an improvisation, taking onto the outermost road of all the lanes on the western side of the Ryburn Valley, which we can look across as the lane snakes its way around between Thornton Park and Moat Hall farms, while also giving us sight down to St Mary's church at Cotton Stones, almost concealed in the landscape when viewed from above, while we angle ourselves in the apparent direction of Crow Hill again. We're not heading that way though, as we need to pass over the Manshead ridge far to the south of there, which means rising onto the moorland track that ascends onto the plots of Flints, heading westwards and aiming up towards the farms at Flints Hall and Rake Head, directing ourselves over the headwaters of Noah Dale Clough as it flows down towards Mill Bank, and passing below the dam of Flints reservoir, that odd moorland cistern that is completely devoid of water.

The Beehive inn.

Severhills Clough bisecting the Ryburn uplands.

The Ripponden Christmas Tree farm, from Cross Dikes.

The view over Cotton Stones church.

Flints Reservoir on the moorland edge.

The high track here leads us up past the farmstead that looks like it was abandoned in favour of caravan dwelling, as we are drawn onto the moorland beyond the empty chamber of Flints reservoir, which we can look beyond to get a renewed high horizon, giving us our last looks at the panorama beyond the Colne, Blackburne and the Ryburn, as well as all its high places as we trace the rough path among the heather and long grass as we track southwestwards, with Great Manshead hill rising before us, and showing none of the interesting profile that we saw of it last week. Again we are due to tangle with the Calderdale Way route, coming up by the pits at Slate Delfs Hill and the wartime era Starfish Bunker, which may, or may not, have been something out of Dick Strawbridge's crafty tricks of war scrapbook, parked by the track where we also cross our 2013 ridge walk route, right by the western reveal of the upper reaches of Cragg Vale, with Turley Holes and Higher House moor presenting an almost featureless horizon, with all the points of interest to come beyond Withens Clough. Drop down past Slate Delfs house, getting a revival at the absolute livable limit of Cragg Vale, where there seems to be a much nicer day happening downstream to the north and over Ovenden Moor's wind farm, dropping down to split onto the overgrown bridleway that leads down to Sykes Gate, giving us a view down to the roofers working in the stiff breeze at Broad Fold farm, and also over to the Turkey Lodge farm industrial estate, which is home to two of Calderdale's premier local brewers, Little Valley and Vocation, ahead of following the high lane down to Sykes Gate Bottom. Meet the B6138 and cross it with great care, to meet the field path that sends us down towards Turvin Clough, as an ascent up to the Ellis Clough shooting hut via Washfold Road might be another detour too far, meeting the rough path that settles into the sea of bracken beyond, which is thankfully dying back in the late summer, meaning footfalls are less fraught ahead of descending the steep path down into the clough itself, which flows noisily to the north in a deep cleft, leading to a footbridge that look seriously engineered for the path size, as if storms washed and older one away. Having gotten down, getting back up is the next priority, rising again through the bracken along a path that feels just about obvious, testing the tiring legs that are happy to have trimmed some digressions from today's route, as we pass up above the valley as the tree cover starts to claim it, rising onto the moorland fringe as we meet another moorland conduit, which drains water off the moors and into Cragg Vale, rather than feeding a reservoir, and we trace this, above the upper valley, as it hangs on the outermost edge of the moors we paced across last week, 80+m further uphill, and on a route completely invisible from down here, despite being only a mile or so distant to the southwest.

Slate Delfs and the Starfish bunker.

Cragg Vale, with Slate Delfs house.

The descent to Sykes Gate Bottom.

The passage over Turvin Clough.

The conduit above Higher Houses farm, below the moor.

Coming around the Cove Hill edge to where the RoWs leave the moorland, above the Higher House farm that partially names the expanse to its west, we encounter a barrier that informs us that the Yorkshire Water permissive path to Withens Clough reservoir is closed, due to a bank collapse, but judging by the path cut in around the end of the fence, it looks like it's a closure that has been ignored for a while and as we have no route alternative from up here, we'll carry on with the westerly push, above the top of Hove Yard wood along a path that still looks pretty well trammeled. The route only gets a bit sketchy as it drops down around the wood's western perimeter, before meeting the conduit that flows west along Turley Holes Edge, mostly right on the 300m contour above the steep drop of the valley side down into the Cragg's main side valley, which gives us fine views downstream before we finally meet the section that gave way some time ago in the past, where the channel has broken and the ground slipped away by a metre or so, a break that has now settled firmly in place and is easily traversible. I'd assume the path closure is one due to legal liability rather than practical accessibility, while Yorkshire Water feel no need to repair it, and the ongoing route is clear with greater risk posed by slipping off the narrow path into the drain rather than falling down the hill, as we aim up towards the dam midway up the valley, noting the sheep bridges over the conduit and keeping eyes on the route to come, as well as the time and the weather as we approach the reservoir built to supply Morley with water in the late 19th century. Good time keeping means we don't need to shave a corner off by cutting across the dam, and instead settle onto the perimeter path that traces the southern shore of Withens Clough reservoir, landing us below the rising moor edge that is home to more batches of Buck Stones, and the balanced Hattering Stone, looming on the moorland edge that we got so wet upon last week, and as we progress around, deep in the almost horizon-free amphitheatre, the feeling of rain coming fills the air, as the skies darken ominously, which is frustrating as we weren't forecast anything worse than stiff breezes. So the need to knuckle down takes hold as we draw around the inlets at the western end, where we can look up to the dream fixer-upper retreat prospect at Red Dykes and come around onto the access track on the northern shore, once the clough's New Road which cut over the moors towards Mankinholes and Lumbutts, which today provides a particularly water-logged surface as it takes us generally eastwards, with the clouds darkening further at the point where we join the track of the Calderdale way for the fourth and final time, rising with the path away from the shoreline as the rain begins to fall.

The conduit path by Hove Yard Wood.

Withens Clough merges with Cragg Vale, from Turley Holes Edge.

Withens Clough Dam, and the moorland conduit.

Withens Clough Reservoir and Hattering Stone.

The top of Withens Clough and Red Dikes house.

So hopes of another wholly dry day pass, as we carry on uphill, and we can consider ourselves fortunate that we aren't getting the heavy downpour that we endured last week, as a thick mizzle settles in instead, as we rise away from the reservoir and the rapidly greying horizon, passing up the mostly concealed Long Lane, below the rocky Henry Edge, knowing that our route will take us on between Higher Moor and Sunderland Pasture, but somewhat uncertain as to its viability as its walled route has gradually vanished into the landscape over the years. Its predictably damp going, thanks to the springs that issue forth along the path, with clumps of moorland grass filling most of the space between the walls that endure, with the route frequently degenerating as posts are needed to guide us up uphill, when we don't have wall remnants to follow among the sea of bracken and long grass, as well as duck boards and well placed rocks to get us around puddled water ahead of hitting the open turf, which is as unyielding as you'd expect, but does advertise its route slightly better. So, up through the beastly mud and oom-scah to meet the edge of the plantation of conifers on the ridge top, its perimeter wall offering us a clear guideline across the damp moorland top to the crest of the ridge that finally gets us out of the catchment of Cragg Brook, landing back in the main Calder valley over the watershed, ending the 90m climb, and poking Stoodley Pike over the western horizon as we come down to our last transit path up here, feeling like we're unlikely to get a grand old view on these moors thanks to the inclement weathers as we come down to the Pennine Way corner, and choose the route downhill instead of retracing the old paths to Dick's Lane. So we start the shedding of altitude again, as we follow the descending path off the high cliff, that would offer such a fine panorama over the high Calder apron, and to the hills beyond, if they weren't blotted out by the encroaching greyness, and the oncoming wind, blowing in from the north just makes it that bit more unpleasant and penetrating as we carry on down below the plots on Higham and the Doe Stones, to meet the level fields and the end of London Road, which is also the Pennine Bridleway. Moving up to Swillington Farm, the first enduring building we've passed in a goodly while, the need for my overdue second lunch break is felt, but our remaining mileage suggests a pause would be unwise, so we carry on, noting the the nation's other major Pennine trail seems to have had a new route put in down towards Beaumont Clough, which leaves the old route along Kilnshaw Lane feeling relatively free of cyclists, ahead of our turn back uphill with Whittaker Lane.

The reservoir from Long Lane.

The Long Lane path, vanishing into the moorland.

On the moorland crest by Sunderland Pasture Plantation.

The Pennine Way path at Higham.

The Pennine Bridleway and the rise of Whittaker Lane.

I figure there's time enough to make digressions around here, as we are starting to run short of paths that haven't been traced around here, rising back towards the high edge once more, as only the faintest shadow of the horizon around that I'd want to see shows itself, meeting the few other walkers out here as we go, noting that they all seem young and rather incorrectly dressed for the conditions, and seemingly seeking the way to Stoodley Pike by dead reckoning as they pass by and we land on the upper edge of Erringden Moor, which returns Crow Hill and the downstream Calder to the horizon, revealing that Cragg Vale isn't really very fare from this corner either. The alleged paths in that direction are still as unclear as they were eight years back, and the way down into the Calder valley from the high moors is selected as we carry on along the high lane, and choose to head straight over the edge of Cock Hill Moor as it passes around the side of Rake Head farm that maintains its own plots up here, taking care as we go as the local herd of moorland cattle have settled with their calves around the damp track that traces a route over to moorland edge, confirming that there isn't an easy way down from this upland in any direction. So it's straight down, with Hebden Bridge slightly off the the west and Old Chamber farm directly below us, as we carefully make our way to the lateral path that leads over to Great Jumps house, where the grassy route down Dole Lane needs to be carefully walked so as not to surf down it vertically, before landing on the new impacted track up the hill, which offers an easy route down, and a view to Mytholmroyd in the east, before we land on Spencer Lane, which offers tarmac ahead a steep run of setts that is no fun at all to walk on. Sneak onto the verge for some easier, and less slippery, going on the way down, trying to not alarm the local cows as we come down to the hamlet of Wood Top, which has an apparent rural idyll that once served a dye works, and we're tracing another old route from 2012 as we hit the damp concrete path of Wood Top Road that leads down into Crow Nest Wood at anther steep angle to get down to the valley floor, finally stitching it to a proper walk, as we head onward among the dripping foliage. The sole corner of Hebden Bridge that we shall be seeing is met at the bottom of the descent, namely the houses on the Palace House Road corner, ahead of us slipping below the eastern end of the railway station and the signal box, via the Mayroyd Lane footpath, rising beyond to the main buildings to be about 10 minutes late for spotting the Drax-bound bin-liner pounding its way down the valley, but at 4.05pm, we are 10 minutes ahead of our ride home, indicating that my instinct to pound out the miles throughout the afternoon was a good one, allowing me time aplenty to be able get home to greet My Mother as she finally gets an opportunity to visit us in 2020.

Stoodley Pike and Upper Calderdale from Erringden Moor.

Rake House and the moorland herd on Cock Hill Moor.

Hebden Bridge from the Moorland Edge.

Downstream Calderdale and Spencer Lane.

Hebden Bridge Signal Box.

5,000 Miles Cumulative Total: 4596.4 miles
2020 Total: 329.9 miles
Up Country Total: 4133.4 miles
Solo Total: 4269.8 miles
5,000 in my 40s Total: 3190.2 miles

Next Up: From Greater Huddersfield and Over the Top to Greater Manchester?

~~~

Pandemic Thoughts: August 2020

It's been a while since I had a grumble about what's been going on in the wider world on this here blog, preferring to focus within my bubble of walking rather than looking at events that abound further, and it's a weird feeling to have the Covid-19 pandemic feeling like its retreating into the background, whilst also remaining squarely at the front of everyone's minds, as some seek a complete restoration of their normal routines, whilst other remain distinctly wary of venturing too far from what they've been up to for the last few months. Since the national end of formal lockdown in July, quite a few northern districts have had local restrictions put back in place from the start of the month, after a number of infection rate spikes in a variety of towns, and it has not helped matters with having had government figures tying this to the festival of Eid al-Adha, and claiming that 'Muslims are not taking the pandemic seriously' in just the most racist and accusatory way possible, when the infections are obviously linked to multi-generational occupancy in a compact and depressed residential urban environment. The ongoing lockdown in Leicester seems to be an unending source of frustration, keeping my Mum away from anything that approaches a revived routine, now that here work getting her church's manse refitted has ended and the new minister is due to be installed, especially as the local infection rate has shown a steady decline over the weeks but the council has refused to lift restrictions on domestic visiting, while pubs, shops and workplaces remain open, and the option to travel away on holiday remains. My natural wariness and cynicism doesn't even have me entertaining the idea of travelling abroad to a holiday destination, and am not even too inspired by the idea of staying away from West Yorkshire at the moment, but after the signal was sent that travel out of the country was now permitted, the rush out is now being mirrored by a rush homewards after a multitude of nations suffer an increase in infection rates, and while it's not my desire to judge to harshly, I can only wonder 'What did you expect, exactly?'. The pandemic situation is far from over and all nations are trying to ease themselves back into a routine, and shaking things up by mixing people together, both locally and internationally in such a short time was sure to have a ripple effect, one that you don't need to be sharp to expect, so again I'm glad I'm not solely reliant on official advise in my decision making, but I fully understand the need as it falls on people, it's just that so much care is needed now, like my Good Friends in Calderdale needing a week's break away in Brittany, or my Polish friend managing to travel to see her mother and family in Warsaw, long before I got the opportunity to see my own (of which more, later).

After so many months of being in the national focus, the work of the hospitals has dropped from scrutiny in the last couple of months, which is good for us as some peace and quiet is useful in stressful times, while attention has been directed towards the education sector for most of the last month, with the exam grading fiasco being by far the most egregious governmental situation of the year, outside of anything pandemic related, not least due to the fact that they had so long to plan for it and still managed to screw it up so badly, and publicly. I've said my bit on this already, but it's worth re-emphasising, that when matters of pupil assessment need to be performed and standardised examinations cannot be performed, it's probably best to trust the input of teachers and educators, rather than tendering the process out to a data analytics company (which has links to government minsters, incidentally) and claiming that they didn't want state school pupils to be over-graded, before being forced into a humiliating climbdown that has all A-level, B-tech and GCSE results being regraded upwards again. It's enough to make your teeth grind, even when you have no direct link to the business, as attention turns to getting pupils back into school en masse at the start of September, again being organised in an absolute bull-rush like they haven't had months to plan for it, like getting everybody back on site at once is the only plausible method of operating an education system, and that remote learning or limited time spent in schools is no way to work in times of an international health crisis, despite the evidence to the contrary. Nothing can be done in increments it seems, as getting things started in gradual stages coupled to a gradual lifting of restrictions as the situation improves appears to be a less sensible method than trying to get everything back into its previous routine as quickly as possible before hurriedly imposing restrictions as the situation worsens, which makes it feel like it's opposite day, only its been like this for months and it's those who would govern us who are doing it, in a crisis situation to boot. Still when it comes to matters of pupil and staff safety, and organising the most significant transition, and acid test, of the CoronaVirus pandemic, I shouldn't really expect more of HM Government, as this month has already had them attempting to downgrade the number of fatalities in the pandemic to exclude those Covid deaths that were not directly caused by the disease, when nobler souls would be investigating just how many died because of disruptions in care and treatment, while also disbanding Public Health England, as getting advice on a health crisis from an independent body of health care professionals is not something that they feel ought to be doing, especially when they can organise their own private advisory body instead.

Still, it's not gripes and ill-temper to report from this past month, as the Bank Holiday weekend finally allowed my family the opportunities to travel and get together, having not been in a single place since Christmas 2019, and this is despite the restriction still being in place in both Leicester and Bolton, which we all took it upon ourselves to ignore, as we've been robbed of all our Summer chances to travel to Leicester by circumstances beyond our control, and with schools due to return next month and all the consequences that might come from that, this was really our most secure option to get together. So Mum travelled up to mine on the Saturday afternoon, here first drive of a duration since March, and it's naturally good to see her in fine fettle, not that we have a great deal to catch up on as we've been in communication for three days a week since lockdown started, but just being in a different place with her boy is enough for her, and she's naturally delighted to see just how much Spring cleaning I did for her visit, whilst I'm quietly delighted to crash the Zoom meeting of her church's congregation after their Sunday morning service, as it's good to see them all well despite the circumstances, as they're all folks of that I've known for many years, with some being of notably advanced ages and not being in the best of healths. Our formal family get-together is arranged to take place at the Leeds Urban Bike Park, which is absurdly conveniently for us in Morley as it sits on the fringe of Middleton Park, and provides an interesting, and more importantly free, environment for Dr G and the girls to ride and keep themselves entertained while we catch up with My Sister, who tells that all has been well, with the two of them having been working from home from way before lockdown, and the Girls keeping up with the school work whilst not going stir crazy, while also breaking away briefly for summer jollies in York and the Lakes . We can also organise ourselves into a decently socially distanced picnic too, with them bringing their van, which give us a small amount of kitchen space for food prep and hot brew provision, while we arrange ourselves in the car park on folding chairs outside for a bit of a bring'n'share, like we might have done in a lay-by while on a long cross country trip back in the 1970s (which literally nobody does anymore), and again its good to see everyone well and still in decent spirits as we chew over the events of the last six months, and whatever else we might want to talk about. We are all pleased by the location we've chosen, as the tracks give My Nieces the freedom to do their own thing while it gives us a prime opportunity to see how well they ride on the Pump Track and BMX course, both looking fearless in their bike handling and so mature in their active demeanors, which is hardly surprising with them both burrowing across the transition into their teenage years, and having done a good chunk of their growing in the last 12 months, with them approaching being 5ft tall after looking so little for so long.

Getting to do this feels like the greatest of breakthroughs.
Sitting down to dinner with Mum for the first time in 8 months

It's a popular and busy location for sure, probably the biggest crowd that I've been a part of in many months, but it's easy to keep your distance in the circumstances, and in the future we can hope it'll be a place we can congregate again, being only an hour over the motorway from their place in the West Pennines, and providing a more interesting destination that just travelling over to see Uncle Chris might do otherwise, and we spend the better part of four hours there before ways have to be parted, with the intent to see each other again before Christmas comes along, if the pandemic situation will allow it. Mum stays on with me so we can spend Bank Holiday Monday together, and to get out of the house so that we can go to the M&S store at Owlcotes for a bit of a shopping browse and to pause for a brew and a sticky bun in the cafe, which feels like the most enormous of treats for her after staying home for so long, and after borrowing her for a trip to B&Q so I can cheaply replace a broken toilet seat (long story. don't ask), we can return to mine so that we can cook and then sit down to a roast dinner together that feels like as much as a breakthrough from the pandemic experience for me as my June trip to my Good Friends in Calderdale did. As My Mum is having a proper breakaway weekend, she'll be travelling up to Skipton tomorrow to see her old friends who reside up there before returning Down Country, and doing this all feels like its been the right thing to do, assuming that we all stay healthy after merging our various social bubbles, but it's a good shred of normality to cling to in the circumstances, one we worried that me might not have gotten to see at all in the strange days in the start of this pandemic, but having done this, might intent to travel away at the end of next month, to provide hands for various tasks down in Leicester is strong, as I feel that we have enough of a feel for the situation, and the precautions that we need to take, that there's no reason at all to feel so massively constrained in our future activities, assuming that others, over whom we have no control, don't act in such a manner that screws everything up, which as we know is sadly entirely plausible, but we need to maintain some feelings of positivity for the future, don't we?