Summer in the Cheviots

Mr C had a hospital appointment so Dennis took him in the 2CV as the brake cable on our 13 year old VW had snapped and it was taking a while to get fixed, owing to the rustiness below.

When they got back it was fixed, so we picked up Ailie and drove the few miles to Alnham. From there we walked over the bogginess to the Breamish via Ewertyshank, a remote shepher's cottage, and back a circular route.

That name holds memories for me. In November 1962 two shepherds died coming back there from Rothbury mart. They got so far by tractor then abandoned it in the blizzard to walk but never reached home, perishing in the storm. We lived over the hills in Scotland and heard the name of one of the chaps on the local TV news. ( In those times they must have announced stuff like that before the family was aware.) We knew one of the men and his brother lived on the same farm as we did. My Dad went to tell the brother of Jock what had happened, and then drove to another valley to take him to tell their elderly parents. In those days fewer country people had access to phones - the man's wife assumed when he didn't come back that he'd taken refuge at another farm. He was found in a drift 2 days after setting off, only half a mile from home. At Alnham church there is a board with the story. Memory plays tricks - I thought they were returning from Wooler. You can see the bleak remoteness from my blip of Mr C, Ailie and Dennis at out refreshment stop. Cheviot itself is shrouded in cloud.

It was supposed to be 7 miles but our gizmos said 10.- my foot wasn't as bad as yesteday as it was softer underfoot.

Dennis kindly took us out to eat in Morpeth to a Greek place - I had lovely fish but then succumbed to Baclava which I'd not had for years. Yes it was sickly sweet and yes I felt a bit sick - serves me right, greedy.

We have been watching a Spanish drama "I know who you are" - they speak so quickly the subtitles disappear before we can read it. It's gripping though - recommended.