• Greetings from the bucolic - yet treacherous! - Peak District.
  • Any danger that this week, week 3 of being away from London, was going to seem a lot like last week was sorted by my father-in-law, who came off his bike and broke his leg.
  • The NHS and the people in it continue to be a miracle.
  • I’ve taken up geocaching with E. There are a lot of caches near where we’re staying and we’ve had a lot of fun finding them. The canonical statement on geocaches up here is:

    PLEASE NOTE: This cache is not hidden in a dry stone wall.

    To be fair they would make excellent places to hide caches.

  • I checked in South London and the caches all have comments like:

    covered in excrement and quite near a place being used for illegal dog fights! this cache is not for the faint hearted!!! Left my flick knife in the cache in case anybody needs it.

    So we probably won’t take this hobby home with us.

  • I saw a grebe.
  • I gave up on the Purl Soho verse and reverse scarf that I started in week 112. I was knitting it at about 2 inches a week and I had started to hate the colours. It was only 80 rows long so I made it into a snood for my daughter instead. She says she likes it because her neck is peeking out of it.
  • She also in a very serious tone told me that cars don’t poo, and when I asked her why she had a little think and said “because they don’t have bottoms”.
  • How many other people have the atoms in me been in? Sometimes I think when you die maybe you get the answers to unknowable questions like this. That would be good wouldn’t it. In death you learn everything there is to know, and then just blackness.

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