Living in the Yorkshire Dales National Park you soon get used to the only predictable thing about the weather being that it's completely unpredictable. That being the case me and Our Lass usually do beer o'clock on a Friday after work has finished and plan the weekend with reference (albeit loosely) to the Met Office weather forecast. Today's forecast was for a cloud covering, little chance of rain, and reasonable-ish temperatures. Which loosely translated often means it's going to be cold and at some stage it will p*** down.
So you can imagine my surprise when half six this morning I get up to find the sun is belting and there isn't a cloud in the sky. My thoughts turn straight away to how I can best use this fortunate situation. I could log into the aircraft booking system and see if the plane is free, I could climb on the bike and disappear for the day, maybe go off and do a bit of shooting. All manner of fun stuff is suddenly in prospect but then Jiminy Cricket pipes up and reminds me that all the grass needs cutting, the hedges need trimming etc etc etc................none of them are going to do themselves and the weather tomorrow may be such that I can't do them.
So a plan begins to formulate. First up, walking gear on, dogs in the vehicle and me and Our Lass spend a lovely couple of hours up on the hills tiring the little darlings out. The significance of that little excercise will become clear a bit later Next it's out with the mower, strimmer and hedge trimmer and two or three hours later everything is looking tidy, the tools are away and it's about time for some scran.
Now I hate going off and enjoying myself if I'm left feeling that work hasn't been done, or the dogs haven't had their walk out. I like to get things squared away so I can go off and enjoy whatever it is I'm doing without the nagging feeling that either of the above haven't first been sorted. But today they have. And the sun's still high in the sky and suddenly it's time for the Westy. I ask Our Lass where she'd like to go, and she says she doesn't mind, how about a cup of tea somewhere ?
A684 it is then, through West Witton, left through West Burton and along the road towards Kettlewell. I aren't out to break eggs with a stick, so I'm happy to just cruise along, enjoying the road, the lovely weather, and the sound of the exhaust burbling along bouncing off the dry stone walls. The occasional tourist is dispatched with a down-change, a howl from the exhaust and that addictive thrust of torque before resuming a steady meander through the Dales lanes. I'm taken by how versatile such a single purpose vehicle is. It is quite capable of comfortably cruising along at 2,000 revs, even seeing off the roads bumps and bruises without discomfort, and then on the other hand throwing itself forward with a scream and becoming a different animal.
A leisurely tea for two at Kilnsey Park watching the fly fishers landing their trout before heading back. At the gate we have to wait while a stream of about eight bimblers passed us by, unfortunately heading our way. The little Westy picked them all off in two's and three's with a rush and a howl before settling back and enjoying the ride home. Glorious sunshine, lovely roads and a barbie and a few beers when we got home. Life's hard sometimes innit ?
Ever have one of those days ?