Isatis tinctoria

English: Isatis tinctoria, Brassicaceae, Woad,...

English: Isatis tinctoria, Brassicaceae, Woad,

18°C, CR 64 miles, Sunny & sunburnt

Woad: an interesting plant to try out. A friend dropped off a packet of seeds knowing it was the sort of thing that would appeal to me. She was right. they can’t be planted until the end of summer though. I shalln’t make any dye from it but am just more interested in its history and form.

Per-doiing: fixed the gear cables in the racing bike- now the gear shift is very light. then, on a roll, I decided to fix the freehub. Campag freehubs are not as neat as Shimano. There are three pawls that spring out unrestrained when you take the freehub off the hub. Not a great design – Shimano beat Campag to the patents I am told. One spring is broken in this hub but I did get it back together and ride 64 miles today.

Telesales…

13°C, grey.

Phone rings in the middle of the day- no-one I know & it’s a bank holiday:

“Are you the man of the house?
Me: say again.
Are you the man of the house?
Me: What does that mean?”

To this, she hung up.  Man of the house? – I thought that phrase/concept died out in the 1970s. Still scratching my head.
I helped this little chap cross the road today.

She ended her story.

13°C, grey & cool, CR:53 miles

Dear Bessie finished her story today. A story that spanned 14½ years.
Bessie_PenYPont

She became ill just over a day ago while I was on my way to the Lake District. Mum called me back home because she knew it was serious this time, “I think she’s dying Mike”. Her last day was painless as her body failed and finished just before 11am by the vet.

She spent most of those years in this house and witnessed all the changes that occurred over those years. The first day when she was tentatively introduced to us, she ran, full of excitement in figure-8s in the garden. She had a bit of a silly poodle haircut, bouffant & bushes. I clipped off most puffy bits fairly quickly. She didn’t like too much physical contact, at first pulling away from a head stroke. She got used to us eventually.

Though she grew old and slowed dramatically in the last few years, she was always the gentlest soul. A good dog to have in a house of boisterous children. She took with her a story of change, human relations, growth and separation. The last four years the house became calm which coincided with her more restful pace. She has also taken the mysterious prologue- the time before she came into our lives. I know very little of this period in 1997. I do know, however, that she recovered from a bout of Parvo’s virus. Other than that, her time before Bessie’s dynasty is blank.

I’m trying to decide, from all the options, where to scatter her ashes.

Erroneous weather

12°C, rain

The Weather was correct last year- early June days reached 24°C, and summer half-term saw me wading into a mountain lake for a paddle while walking up Nantlle Ridge. This year, the air is cool & rain has formed a strip across England & Wales. This is not the correct weather for June.  Weather sometimes errs.

To avoid this cold front, I may camp up in the Lake District instead of (my preferred) Snowdonia. Bank holiday weekend in the lakes is likely to be busy with English visitors. Getting away from this town is more urgent than usual this year. The local Bower fair has driven me away for the last six years at some cost. But to compound the repellance, England has gone Jubilee mad. Wales is probably a better escape from kitsch royal patriotism than Cumbria. I bet there is some daft sod with union-flag bunting on their tent as I write. Not so in a Welsh campsite I predict.