Friday was Good Friday and off we tootled to the Pocklington Canal in Bielby for a nice walk. The weather was kind to us, it was an easy walk to help break in my new walking boots, and I’ve shared some of the photographs at the bottom of today’s post.
On Saturday we were supposed to be doing the garden – cutting the grass, raking the leaves, creating a couple of borders, etc – but we went for a drive instead and stumbled upon Wentworth Lakes in Greasbrough, Rotherham. This is a private fishery belonging to the old Wentworth/Fitzwilliam estate, but it also makes for pleasant walking and joins the Trans Pennine Trail. We didn’t take any pictures because we needed to be back, but we will go again, probably for a longer walk as the poet doubts he’ll buy a fishing pass there.
Saturday night the poet had a gig over in Doncaster, and he needed to get off early to help set up. I drove over a couple of hours later (we don’t like to leave the animals for hours and hours on their own), and we had a very nice evening. The band, Monkey Dust, played well, the sound was good, the crowd were friendly.
We didn’t go out anywhere on Sunday because there was another afternoon gig over at one of the best venues I’ve ever been to – Upton Rugby Club (ARLFC) near Pontefract. It wasn’t due to start until 4pm but the band needed to be there by 2pm, so it cut the day in half a bit. They’re a fantastic crowd at that club, though, and we all really enjoyed it. Even the gig buddy and her hubby joined us, who had planned to leave after the first set but stayed until the end anyway.
Back home for a swift tea, shower and change, and then it was off to see my old friends Infinity, who were down from the North East, play in Barnsley. We’d missed the first song or two, but the rest of the first set was great. So we were really surprised to learn that the lead singer had fallen swiftly very poorly and had spent the whole of the interval with his head in a bucket. Ian (the poet) had been drinking since 2pm and was quite tired after two gigs of his own, so when the guitarist said they might need him, we both thought he was joking … but he wasn’t.
They had 3 choices: pull the rest of the gig; muddle through between them without a lead singer; or jam with their friend, a fellow “chanter”, from the audience. They did a couple on their own and then chose the latter. And while the poet was very nervous (he hardly knows any of their songs), he got up and joined them anyway, and they managed to do more than an hour for the second set.
The club gave them a great reception, Barnsley East Dene is such a lovely club anyway, and we tootled back to West Yorkshire while the band tried to head back to the North – but I understand there was a nasty accident, a head-on collision, on the motorway, and they were stuck in the van, and with a very sick singer, for many hours more. They had a rubbish night, but hopefully we eased things a little for them, and we hope Trevor feels better very soon (he was still feeling quite rough yesterday, apparently, poor thing).
On Monday we were both very tired and we decided on a shorter walk. We went to Sprotbrough in Doncaster for lunch, and then walked around Sprotbrough Flash. When we got back to the car park, we had an ice cream each. Again, we don’t have pictures this time, but we do intend to go back.
So that was our weekend – and this is already more than 850 words. So time for me to crack on with some work while you enjoy some pictures (more later in the week):
More on Wednesday.