Back home Sunday, back North (proper, unquestionable North) with James on Monday for a little Lakes walking.
Astonishing coincidence; only 4:14 hours to the Lakes, EXACTLY the same time as Mrs RM spent shopping in Ashton IKEA on Saturday. Spooky.
Two stops on the way; the now obligatory Tuck Shop in Tuxford, and a riveting ramble up Rivington Pike from a starting point of the M61 Services.
James cheerfully pointed out the sign indicating your entry into Bolton, home of the plague fields. Luckily, Chorley is plague free.
It’s a pretty walk from the Rivington Spar up Squirrel Lane to the Reservoir.
But the highlight was back in the car park on the Blackrod side where a man appeared to be becoming “acquainted” with a cow.
“But where’s the pub ?!” says Russ.
We had to wait till we left the A590 for Cark-in-Cartmel.
I’d attempted to tick the Engine back in March, thwarted by those “Winter Hours” at odds with the “ALWAYS OPEN” promise on Facebook.
But here they were open before 5 on a damp Monday in late September.
A lovely old rambling South Lakeland pub, except now with the addition of handwash, QR codes, perspex visors and sticky tape.
And disposable paper menus on which you write your name and menu choices, which they keep for 21 days JUST IN CASE.
Proper Pub food, scampi and chips for me, and a superbly crisp and foamy Lancaster Blonde (NBSS 3.5 +).
I saw a half dozen Blondes pulled while we were there, with one Gent disappointed when the Blonde went off and he was left with the Boltmaker.
When it’s good, it’s very good.
A bit of a buzzy atmosphere. half and half diners and drinkers in the dozen or more.
“Why is there only one Monopolies Commission ?” asked one wag, which I thought was funny till I realised he was reading the sign above the bar.
A couple behind us were discussing their complex plans for the evening and consulting the rules for “support bubbles” and no doubt the special Covid exemptions for people who knew a cat in Ulverston.
The rules were still less complex than the arrangements for taking a leak.
The drizzle stopped. We took a quick hike up Hoad Hill to admire the view from Ulverston to Barrow and beyond.
The sheep scattered, that Ulverston cat looked rather less afraid. Or perhaps it’s just annoyed that the craft bar in Ulverston remained resolutely shut during our trip.
*there’s my title, just need Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk playing in the background.