Cloisters

Something about this scene tickled me; a sense that someone had tucked the wheelie bin away in a corner of Peterborough Cathedral's cloisters hoping it wouldn't be noticed.

I'd begun the day in Norwich, somewhat regretting my choice of budget accommodation. I think somewhere between a semi-conscious drunk being dragged upstairs by his mates at 01.30 and someone else taking a shower in the next room at 03.30 I got a little sleep, but not much. 

I'd given myself a few hours to explore Norwich before catching the train to Peterborough, and began by wandering along the riverside where a couple of Egyptian geese flew overhead. Past the cathedral and law courts, I found myself on the far side of the city centre on Magdalen Street. The array of small independent businesses included the Little Shop of Vegans which supplied me with a chestnut and cranberry sauce pastry roll for my lunch.

Cutting back through town I pleasingly managed to avoid the main shopping area completely and eventually found myself back at the railway station. I did of course collect myriad photos of plaques, street art, post boxes and signs along the way and they will ultimately get sorted and put in the other place. I can honestly say that I didn't recognise a single thing from my previous visits a quarter of a century ago, although had I headed out to the UEA campus I would have been on more familar ground. I saw enough to make me want to come back and explore some more though, so I'll add it to the list of potential places to take the kids for a short break.

Having made the journey across East Anglia in the dark the day before I was looking forward to the ride across to Peterborough. The landscape is so different it does feel like being in another country, and although you don't get fully immersed in the Fens, there were various puddles, pools and ditches that hinted at the waterland. And a lot of pig farms too.

At Peterborough I had an hour to explore before heading to the match at London Road, which is how I found myself by the cathedral.

In a full day, the football match, a League One fixture between Peterborough Unied and Bury, was almost incidental, but London Road (20/92) is a nice old-fashioned ground, with terracing at one end and wooden seats in the paddock. I missed out on the wooden seats by one row, but settled down among the season ticket holders. The gentleman to my left explained that the seat I was occupying had been his son's before he'd gone off to uni in Liverpool, and apologised in advance if his reflex reaction to Peterborough scoring a goal was to turn and hug me, forgetting that his son had moved on. As it happened, the Posh scored three times with no reply, but my neighbour restrained himself. Or possibly he doesn't like beards.

The journey home seemed a smooth one until I detrained at Leeds to find that the Airedale and Wharfedale lines were having one of their occasional snarl ups. It was another hour before a train left for Shipley and then there were no imminent connections for Baildon so I took the easy route of a taxi for the final leg. 

Home finally, but no energy left to blip, hence a slight delay in bringing you my adventures.