With the lifting - just a little - of the lockdown, Son the Elder arranged a trip for us to Minsterworth, just outside Gloucester, where he needed to pick up a purchase from off eBay, and to Gloucester Cathedral, where he was meeting his friend Tom for the handover of acting DVDs. It was only going to be a flying visit, but I was glad of the chance of getting out of Bristol for a couple of hours, as well as giving my new-to-me car a bit of a run.
So here's Gloucester Cathedral ...
... and some ghost signage on Berkeley Street ...
... and 99 - 101 Westgate Street, which building dates from c1500 and is said to be the last lodging of Bishop Hooper before his execution by burning at the stake in St Mary's Square on 9th February 1555.
When I got back to the car, I noticed a bird had christened my car with some poo, which I took as a good luck sign.
Today I was off again - this time with the Northerner and Cwtch the collie - to Uphill, where I was due to get my second dose of Pfizer vaccine at Weston General. Immediately afterwards, we headed to Berrow beach so that Cwtch could get her first taste of the sea proper (her recent visits to Portishead notwithstanding).
Upon arrival it was clear that the powers-that-be at Burnham and Berrow golf club had been brandishing industrial-sized secateurs and diggers during the enforced shut down, much like at the local golf club. For a start, there was a pill box I'd never seen before ...
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... and much of the lovely tunnelling footpath through the dunes had been ripped open and the sky let in.
The pussy willows lining the reedbeds were lovely, though, and the ascent and descent to the beach was as exciting as ever.
As luck would have it, the tide was so far out that Cwtch still didn't encounter the sea ...
... though she did get her first taste of the beach.
We didn't walk too far as the Northerner has been recovering from something narsty (albeit not in the woodshed) and I was being careful on account of my jab. It was enough to be at Berrow with our eyes on ... well, more or less the same horizon as up the meadow, actually, but from a very different angle.
It was sandy enough to walk out to the wreck of the SS Nornen too, which was as photogenic as ever, with no need to dodge the sinkinny sands and mud.
A different dog that is ours with us on this visit, though - and she couldn't quite contain her surprise and delight that such a place exists, even if the sand looks better than it tastes and the water is salty.
There are even sticks, which are one of Cwtch's favourite things. (Ted was only interested in balls.)
Time to go back through the sand dunes and around the marshes ...
... and past the little white bench with its views of Brent Knoll and Crook Peak ...
... and through the churchyard of St Mary's with its cowslips and dead nettles ...
... to the car which once again had been anointed with good luck poo.
I did start to wonder if you could have too much good luck poo, so when a muck spreader pulled out in front of me between Berrow and Burnham-on-Sea, I decided to keep well back, just in case.
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