‘Scripts, Skeletons & Scriptures: Writing About Writing in Yorkshire.

[Human]

It rained quite heavily overnight. As I looked out my window this morning, I reflected on the wonderful equation:

(Same view) + (different weather) = (different view).



The morning routine was the same as yesterday: breakfast, workshops, then lunch. I ate way more freshly-baked focaccia than I should have, but occasionally, just occasionally, food is so good that it’s worth the commensurate increase in body weight.

After lunch the big agenda item was my first one-on-one meeting with a presenter/author at 4pm. That gave me plenty of time to go for another walk, to the nearby village. I had two items on the agenda once there: to go to the shop, and to go to the cemetary.

Having received directions from one of the staff, I set out through The Door At The End Of The Garden.



I came to this sign: a “Public Footpath” to the village. I was not given directions to take this path to get to the village. But what could possibly go wrong? I took the path.


Why, oh why, oh why, oh why, won’t I ever learn?

At first the “Public Footpath” was simply a narrow, but easy, bushwalking track – the sort of thing that you’d find, say, in the Blue Mountains or any number of Australian east coast sub-tropical rainforests.


Then it became just a tiny bit more precarious… It rained heavily last night, remember, so the track was slippery. Very slippery.


Then things started to get decidedly dicey, especially given the slippery surface, and I started to think that this was the sort of track that was best not taken alone, in case one person slipped and the other needed to go or call for help…



…Then the edge of the track stopped taking on the characteristics of a “slope”, and came to be more accurately described as a “cliff”.


To make matters worse, on the left (the non fatal-fall side) was a quite impenetrable wall, trapping me on the cliff-face…


Yes, it must be acknowledged that there were some beautiful views to be had…





But seriously? This was a “Public Footpath”? More like a public death-trap. I kept thinking that I was one slip away from my doom…


Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.

 

[Human]

Eventually there was a gap in the wall. I’d survived! “Free at last!” I thought. I walked along the path just as it started to rain heavily. I just had time to put on my trusted Kathmandu Gore-Tex jacket, when the rain stopped.



I emerged to see some signs of civilisation.



I continued on another path, before arriving at the Church building.



I found its cemetary.


And within a few minutes I’d found this grave. I have a colleague at work, an English teacher, who would have killed me if I hadn’t come here and gotten these photos.


One thing for sure: I was most definitely not returning via the same path I came! I walked through the village, and along the road, before arriving at the familiar and welcome path back to the house.






On the minus side, I didn’t make it to the shop. On the plus side. I did not slip and plunge to my death. That’s a win in my book.