Outlook

This morning, I took the new shoes out for a half-marathon, running from Kirkby Lonsdale out to the bridge where Barkin Beck becomes Barbon Beck, and then back home again.

It's one of my favourite runs, particularly the stretch down the northern side of the beck, which passes through the woods below Barbon Manor. Recently, there's been a massive clearance here, revealing the topography that was previously hidden by the trees.

As I reached the end of the path, just where it emerges onto the track of the Barbon Hill climb, the way was blocked by some machinery and a sign saying not to pass without permission. I was a little narked by this, not least as there was no warning earlier on. I had no intention of turning around and as there was no activity on the site and it was only for maybe fifty metres of path, I ran along the track to the end. 

Coming out onto the hill climb, I saw loads of walkers - many more than I've ever seen before - all walking up the hill. I was also mildly alarmed to see that the field was full of cows and their calves, through which people were blithely walking. This is supposed to be a no-no but maybe the farmer knows these are particularly docile cattle. I didn't take any chances, though; I ran around the herd rather than following the road through it.

As I started the five miles back to Kirkby, it occurred to me that there's some kind of analogy for Brexit here, the progress of which I continue to follow with morbid fascination through the Financial Times. There's the true landscape only now becoming apparent, the difficulties of actually getting to our final destination, only to find it's not as appealing as we'd been told. If only I knew how to metaphorically run around this disaster!

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-11.0 kgs