The Weir and the River

Been struggling today with a strange pain in my back in the vicinity of my right shoulderblade. Every so often when I'm lying down, I'll turn to the side and get a polite reminder in the form of a stabbing pain deep in the muscle somewhere.

I think the damage has done by violent stimming / ticcing. I'm always ricking, pulling, tearing and tweaking parts of my body in that fashion.

So, I had a walk this afternoon, on a day that was a very peculiar grey colour all day, with occasional this washes of blue beyond as the low level cover thinned in localised areas. Occasionally there were spots of rain, but nothing drastic. It was rather mild as well, so it ended up being a T-Shirt sort of afternoon, as I walked the park and the sides of the River Trent, looking for things of interest.

Eventually I took myself onto what is known as "Bob's Island" or "Pelham Island", a well known fishery by Millgate Bridge where part of the river falls down a weir. Often it is locked up, especially when a well known pair of swans used to nest there, but today you could walk around and look at the old backs of buildings and the various little drops and backwaters that make up the "coast".

It is a loud place, with three weirs making the water roar like a mythical beast. AS I've noticed by the weir at the north end of town, there is a chemical, slightly toxic taint to the air even though the river is supposed to be cleaner than it has been in hundreds of years.

Nothing has dissolved, so I seem to be ok.

Himalayan balsam still blooms, but is tired now, and the blackberries have mostly long gone apart from a few in the dog wee zone. Such is the season. What shall I do over winter to stay active.

Si