I headed up the cycle track where a fair few common darters were flying up in front of me, but instead of following my usual long route to Thorpe on the Elston road, I went the other way to Shelton, a small village with a fine manor and Norman church, and a smattering of very affluent houses. Typically, there were no amenities other than a red telephone box with an actual working phone in it! A rarity these days.
I was hoping it was also being used as a phone box library, but sadly, no. An old house at the end of the village had obviously supported a colony of house martins during the summer, they were still circling today.
I could have turned round here, but decided to keep on going through a world of country lanes marked with old style signposts for villages I'd never heard of despite living less than 10 miles away from them.
Eventually, I took the road for Sibthorpe, which turned out to be a slightly larger village dominated with a medieval dovecote by what I think is the River Smite. It was seemingly an important settlement in the days of Edward I. It is another chocolate boxey affluent village now, and again, no pubs, no shops and not even a phone box this time.
Good luck being elderly out in these places. Assuming you can still afford to live there.
|Pylons into the distance|
|My noble steed|
|The other sort of steeds|
|Big money house|
|The red telephone box|
|Quo vadis, my lord?|
|Across the fields|
|Tatty large white|
|Love the shading on the forewing|