Blea Tarn Road

I'm fifty years old and I've never had a good sense of direction*. However, that has never prevented me from behaving as though I do. Leaving Lancaster University, this afternoon, I decided to take the back roads home and took a turning off the A6 that I thought I knew.

Almost immediately, confronted by a junction that I didn't recognise, I confidently took a turn to the east, figuring - probably correctly, to be fair - that that was the general direction I needed to travel in, with a dose of north thrown in at some point. 

Having passed a school I'd never seen before, I abruptly made the transition from town to country, travelling along a lane with a large reservoir to the right. I rather liked it, actually. I mean, I like open water, anyway, but I also liked the combination of the jetty, power lines and windmill. So I stopped and took a picture,

*I spend quite a bit of time these days thinking thoughts along the lines of "is this a sign of me getting old or have I always been crap at this?" I don't know whether to be sad or relieved that it's usually the latter. (So far.)