Great Stone of Fourstones

As a rule of thumb, to which the Minx would no doubt sadly testify, Pearson plans always change. Part of the fallout of this is a kind of game of chicken when it comes to organising family events; no one actually wants to be in charge of the cat herding. My way of coping - when I haven't cracked and taken the role of shepherd - is to simply say I'll fit in with everyone else.

Today was Izzy's graduation, which I wasn't going to*, but I did agree to ferry Milly down to her mum's this morning. The ancillary family trait of not trusting other people to be punctual meant that in the end I committed to dropping her off at seven-thirty.

The rest of the day was mine, though, and my plan was to go and do a bit of shopping for the Minx's birthday, which is in a week or so. Originally I was going to go to Keswick but that would have meant retracing my steps so, having examined my options, I decided to go to Clitheroe, via the Forest of Bowland.

The route took me within a couple of hundred yards of the Great Stone of Fourstones - "the big stone" - which I've driven past before but never climbed, so I took the opportunity to park up and gingerly make my way across the sodden ground. There are steps carved into the side and I carefully to made my way to the top.

With a little better planning I'd have at least brought along a flask of coffee and perhaps also a bacon roll. As it was, I sat and looked 'round, took a couple of photos, and used my vantage point to plot a slightly firmer route back to the car.

*My non-attendance might require a little justification and there are indeed a handful of reasons for this. Some don't belong in this blog but my low boredom threshold is a publishable one, even if it doesn't reflect well on me.