*May contain strong language and material that some people may find offensive!*
Date: Tuesday 10th December 2019
Location: Castleford
Specifically: Land of the dead and the inevitable zombie apocalypse.
Stayed at Queens Mill four nights now - three during trading and one while I contemplate some place else to visit. This morning it is time to depart with all haste before someone from QM accuses me of taking the piss for staying too long ......
Knock Knock!
”Who is it!?”
“The Queens Mill Manager”
“Wot yer wantin?”
“You’ve been ‘ere four nights now”
“Wot of it?”
“You promised to go after three!”
”I’m going now - I need a wee sample for the doctor”
“Are you taking the piss?”
“Thats the idea!”
”Oh - funny bugger eh!?” Be away from here in 10 minutes or we‘ll have the law on you!”
”Miserable twat!“
”Excuse me?”
”Er...... I said I’ll just get my hat”
SEE!?
.... and with that it was a final quick (OMG it was quick!) wander around the industrial waste land that is Castleford (land of council tips, derelict shops, abandoned hope and the wandering dead) to pick up some water before beating it with all haste towards the motorway! - en-route to Elsecar Heritage Centre - if you’re interested that is, thanks very much for asking. Mein Gott im Himmel! I wish I hadn't because I swear that, even if I was driving blindfold ....
“Hah! What do you mean “if”? “You drive like that anyway!”
“Hecklers - on my own blog!? “
.... there would be no discernible difference between driving on the motorway and the involuntary whitewater rafting down the River Aire I was expecting yesterday!
I was hoping for blue skies, sunshine and temperatures in the 30’s. “Dream on” I said to myself (which is OK because you’re only carted of by the men in white coats if you answer yourself back! “Oh really!!? - Ah fuck!). Hmm Personally I’m in two minds about the subject.
Hah!! Fantasy time!
Here is the *fearfull adventurer blazing a trail over the hillside, hell bent on travelling the 25 miles or so to his destination (Elsecar Heritage Centre) in record time (same day).
Actually fuck that shit! Fact is I am quaking with fear and castration (or whatever word means something that gets in the way of progress) because this mighty wind, constant rain and freezing weather are making it so damned cold it would have provided Henry Moore with enough brass to make a dozen sculptures or at least knocked up a few sets of wise monkeys.
As you may recall I was concerned that, with the water level being so high, I was in danger of being swept out to sea (yes I know I’m on a river but “being swept out to river” doesn’t have the same ring to it and besides it makes me sound like a cobweb). Today though with visibility rendered virtually non-existent by the icy conditions I’m wondering whether I have indeed been dragged overboard (or over-van). It wouldn’t surprise me - just look at this snapshot of the M1 this morning. Dreadful! Stay indoors and don’t go out unless you have to!
* misprint
Well it bleeding well felt like it!
So - as we were saying before I so rudely interfered with myself. Bloody wind! Fuck me! Something else I've learned about travelling around in a glorified furniture removal van is that it‘s one thing trundling down the motorway with nary a care in the world, like a toddler wheeling around the back yard in a kiddie car and quite another to be in control of a mighty rampant beast (settle down at the back please luv) that is trying to escape from your clutches and unleash itself upon an unsuspecting world.
See - when you was little you learned there were two kinds of wind - inside wind and outside wind. Inside wind - which mom might refer to as ’has little sweetums got a cold in his tummy wummy den?” and which you probably described as ‘Christ mother I've reet got the fucking squits, gimme summat for it before I shit me pants!“ and which father said “fuck me Maureen he’s 15 just gerrim summat from round ‘t corner!”. And right there was the solution “little sweetums” was easily cured with some medicine or other from a traditional English corner shop like ‘Pennysavers’, Bargin Bin‘, or Ranjeet‘s Spice Emporium’
Wind on the outside is another matter entirely. Not so easily cured - in fact it's out of your control. I'm gripping this steering wheel for all I’m worth, my knuckles are white, I’m swaying around all over the place and the van feels like it‘s in danger of toppling over and crashing into the hard shoulder. Whatever I'm doing to keep my van on the road it can no longer be called driving - it‘s hanging on for dear life is what it is. I don’t remember reading anything about dealing with high winds in my moho manual.
Fifteen minutes from Elsecar, I‘ve had enough and decide to pull myself off (!!!) I see a tourist information sign - Wentworth Castle and Cannon Hall. Easy choice - I’ve been to Cannon Hall but not Wentworth Castle. It will also give me a different location to blog about.
Until I arrive that is ...
...and notice that the sign ‘Wentworth Castle’ seems to have disappeared and been replaced with ‘Wentworth Gardens’! Now hang on! A castle I can wander around, take photos, admire the architecture whatever the weather - but Gardens! Gardens are something else - I can’t in all honesty say that I am going to derive any pleasure from wandering around looking at pot plants, pansies and people spreading their seeds on the lawn (don’t!) while I am being deluged with rain or blasted arse over tit by a howling wind. Neither would anyone else it would seem because the car park is deserted - hardly surprising! you tell me one person who would be stupid enough to come up here in this weather!? The final sprinkle of weedkiller in the cabbage was the price of admission, £8.50 I‘m a tight arse - like a virgin in the ass fuck community - I ain't paying! In fact I’m leaving - and I would be leaving on a jet plane if I had one but I ain’t - but it’s Goodbye anyway aficionados!
From a blog readers point of view I wasn't terribly keem on returning to Elsecar. For one thing, I’ve been, seen it, photographed it, walked around it, shopped in it, and written about it, sightseen in it, slept in it and shat in it, the only thing I didn't do was buy a T Shirt - no way! Have you seen them!? E.H.C is the new way to spell GEEK!
From my point of view I wasn't over keen on returning because there were a lot of comings and goings from suspect looking people arriving in cars at all hours of the night. All that bloody thud thud thud thud shit that they play these days blaring out of their car windows, smoking God knows what, windows steamed up, shouting, yelling and hollering (but don't think that was related to the steamed up windows!). Ill see how I get on this time around.
I drive into the car park expecting to see a huge empty space or at least only a few spaces taken up. Instead it’d heaving! i think WTAF!? I wander in to the centre itself ecpecting to be swept along by the crowd. There's no one, except the odd straggler wandering around like a visitor from Castleford.
I notice a load of toddlers with their parents tucking into some sort of Cow & Gate version of Christmas dinner (though the toddlers are scoffing turkey legs, quaffing sherry, shovelling down Christmas pudding - but that may be due to the grubby windows.
Goodnight everyone!!
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