Cartmel Fell...

Yesterday felt like the first real day of spring, so, to celebrate being gout-free, I had a walk around the Lyth Valley, trying to get some shots of the damson trees in blossom. I visited some old haunts, including the ford and clapper bridge over the River Winster and St Anthony’s Church at Cartmel Fell, with the sloping churchyard still carpeted with daffodils. In the woods around the church I saw and heard chiffchaffs and willow warblers; a woodpecker was drumming. Paths converge on the church, so walkers came and went - using the little church as an excuse to stop for a few minutes, to look at the old carved box-pews inside or sit on the bench outside and feel the unaccustomed warmth of the sun.

Though I didn’t get as many pix as I would have liked, it was good to be out and about in spring sunshine. Buzzards were wheeling overhead and magpies and jays were active at the woodland edges. The last bird I saw, before driving to Windermere in the evening, was a little egret, taking wing from one of the water-filled ditches in the Lyth Valley. The show of blossom should be even whiter and frothier in a day or two, so I’ll have another attempt to get some pix before I drive back over the Pennines a week today…

Don't know...

The charity shops in Skipton were open yesterday, Sunday: a sure sign that the town is now a ‘place to go at the weekend’ and mooch about. I found Ordnance Survey maps for both Orkney and Shetland; they looked brand new. I bought them all, so that’s decided: I’ll have to go.

George Osborne has gone on the offensive this morning, warning us that “the average famiily will be £4,300 worse off” if we leave the European Union, and income tax will have to rise by 8p in the pound. If this is true (and who reallys knows?) then why did David Cameron promise to have a referendum on the matter, and accept the ‘will of the people’? Did he really think it through? And what percentage of the electorate really understands the issues well enough to make an informed decision? I’m in the ‘don’t know’ camp…

The church at Kirk Hammerton, near York. The Anglo Saxon tower is intact and entire, and dates back more than a thousand years. A jackdaw is returning to its nest...

Nun Monkton...

In my favourite campsite - near Grassington - for the day, busy editing, uploading and keywording pix, while my gouty foot stops throbbing…

Nun Monkton, near York...

Riding Pillion...

The gout has returned. I spent a long a long afternoon, hanging around in Whitby, waiting for my GP in Windermere to fax through a prescription for the tablets I need. Who the hell uses a fax machine in 2016? The gout got worse, rather than better, though the pain should be gone in a few days.

I the meantime I took a ride on the North York Moor Railway (thanks for your patience, Helen, while I was hobbling about). Visited the Birch Hall Inn, near Goathland: two tiny bars with a sweet shop in the middle, where your drinks are served through a hatch.

Riding pillion across Scale Lane swing bridge, Hull…

Climbing the mast...

Crew member forced to climb mast as punishment for forgetting to put sugar in the captain’s tea…

Hull...

I was in Hull today, taking pix in clear spring light. The centre of the city is a mess; the council have obviously decided that Hull needs to be re-paved before it assumes the title of City of Culture in 2017. I find it hard to believe that the work will all be finished by the end of this year, so I took some pix of the work in progress. If the deadline isn’t met, the news media will want pix to illustrate Hull’s civic embarrassment… and my pix should meet their needs.

There was still plenty to photograph, especially around the marina. I had a chat with a woman, about how good it was to be up and about on a glorious day like today. “I’ve just seen a gorgeous little motorhome”, she said (mine), and told me it was her dream to travel around. The nomadic idea seems to have a broad appeal.

Staying in Patrington this evening, with hopes for another early start tomorrow morning. It’s years since I’ve been to Spurn Head. It’s a magnet for spring and autumn migrants, so I’ll make sure to have my monocular in my pocket. I’ve seen a game of cricket before I’ve seen the first swallow… and that doesn’t seem right…

Tripod...

My tripod is light and convenient; unfortunately it just isn’t very steady. And a tripod that’s unsteady isn’t much use at all. So I decided to buy something heavier and more rigid, that would stay rock steady in windy conditions and for long exposures. I went into Leeds by bus, and went to the photographic store in the Merrion Centre. I thought it might take me all morning to try out the various models, but no: someone had traded in a Manfrotto tripod, and I got it for £80 - a good deal less than I was expecting to pay.

The bus was packed on the return journey. A man with a limp got off at Lawnswood Cemetery, carrying a bunch of flowers. A young woman got on with a pushchair, and everyone moved so she could sit down. Then a really old guy with a zimmer frame got on the bus, and the young woman made way for him. It was good to see that there’s still a ‘buffer zone’ between the creeping suburbs of Leeds and Bramhope, where I spent my childhood years. We passed Breary Marsh and Golden Acre Park, where I first learned about birds. There was a gardener working there who knew about birds, and he was happy to stop working for a few minutes and help a young lad tell the difference between a linnet and a redpoll, a gargany and a gadwall…