Pensioner Potter

For the young at heart

10th November, 2016.

The great  man himself

 

Here is a picture and an account of Thursday's Potter, kindly provided by the ever so bubbly, Dave Shoesmith. I'm only too sorry I wasn't present; if only to witness the run unfold as it progressed en route, which appears, by Dave's reckoning , more akin to an assault course rather than an iddilic odyssey one would expect on these enlightening Potter runs. I say no more other than suggest to Dave, the words: highly entertaining, would be more appropriate than the: hightly enjoyable, words he preferred to exude regarding to Kath's stewardship. 

 

Hi Al

Ten hardy souls set off from Horton Village Hall for a marvellous run around the Biddulph Moor Area, superbly led by Kath. It was a great day for running, being about 7 degrees and dry. 

The run was not without incident as we suffered 3 horsebites, 5 electric shocks from fencing, 3 falls and 1 submission (Pete went back early).

The horse biting incident bears further explanation. In a reversal of our usual roles, a group of us was corralled by 3 horses. As the owner pointed out, they were just being friendly and, in any case, Grant was wearing a high viz top. This was a good point and well made. On the way back, Grant went into a brown study as he contemplated the error of his ways.

There was no lasting damage though and tea, coffee and cake were greatly enjoyed by all.

Thanks are due to Kath for a highly enjoyable morning.Hi Al

Ten hardy souls set off from Horton Village Hall for a marvellous run around the Biddulph Moor Area, superbly led by Kath. It was a great day for running, being about 7 degrees and dry. 

The run was not without incident as we suffered 3 horsebites, 5 electric shocks from fencing, 3 falls and 1 submission (Pete went back early).

The horse biting incident bears further explanation. In a reversal of our usual roles, a group of us was corralled by 3 horses. As the owner pointed out, they were just being friendly and, in any case, Grant was wearing a high viz top. This was a good point and well made. On the way back, Grant went into a brown study as he contemplated the error of his ways.

There was no lasting damage though and tea, coffee and cake were greatly enjoyed by all.

Thanks are due to Kath for a highly enjoyable morning.

8th, November, 2016: Tuesday's Potter

Dot & Hazel, imparting words of wisdom to us lowly plebs

A select troop turned out for this little shiffty into Higher Sutton, where the rain didn't fall but the leaves did and duly scattered. A trip to the garden centre afterwards for foodies rounded off a very pleasant morning.

 

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1439483878

 

A Sunday Sojourn with Johnny

Beautiful sunny conditions enticed 2 potters to sidle off into the lovely, grassy, undulating terrain around the area of Lamaload Dam. 

Our start point was the ever popular Tegg's Nose Cafe; where the cakes go down as quicky as their Assam's tea. When we left, there were only a few cars dotted about the place but, on return, it was heaving: in between mind we had the freedom of the out-stretched hills to savour, and those evocative sounds that only can be heard- and appreciated, out there in the countryside. 

Talking of sounds: I wouldn't say Johnny evokes much feeling these days, but he sure can talk a lot when allowed to: quicken the pace though and he soon goes quiet- and, his head drops; at time's it's the only way to control the man's verbose, which can be quite reveiling: but who am I to say such things about an old friend; other than to say: we  wouldn't want him to be any other way, different  than what we've become accustomed to. 

And there we were plodding up the hill from the farm with no name to Snipe house, and the high ground beyond, and the bugger was still talking!  .....marvellous. 

13th, December, 2016: Thursday's Potter

The Lazy Troout

I was sorry I missed this one: but then I feel sad if I have to miss any of these soujourn's into the hinterlands of our neck-of -the-woods- whether that be a Tuesday's, or even on a Thursday's Potter. I presume the troops stuffed themselves in the Lazy Trout afterwards; no doubt to replenish the parts that got a battering while out searching for that elusive spark that sometime's possesses the soul-  like a Will-o'- the- wisp: A chimera we sometimes adhere to in our dotage; and why not the multitude cry. 

6th, December, 2016: Tuesday's Potter

The flatlands of Wilmslow.

Phil promised us a mystery photo opportunity on Tuesday's run from Twinnies Bridge. It was a surprise to find ourselves next to the airport runway - unfortunately the mist concealed some of the view, planes taking off and immediately disappearing. Despite a low turnout, we had a good run over varied terrain and excellent cake at Parker's!

 

Cynthia, penned this succinct piece, which explains all perfectly:  I'm presuming she took the picture? 

15th, November, 2016: Thursday's Potter

Weather wise, It wasn't a plesant morning, but at least it was rather mild so, no clammy  warm gear was needed to lump up the first climb over to the  Bakestonedale rd. Pete had the group under control before a thickish mist enveloped us all and it became difficult to see; at this point Donworkin dropped back to keep company with Phil Walker, who was struggling a bit on the dogged climb ( no doubt due to lack of training with knee problem ) so with the others now out of sight and Sponds Hill the next objective, we  headed there, and arrived without any difficulty: except there were no sign of the others, or, more importantly, some footprints to suggest they'd been, which suggested they'd most likely be somewhere behind us, but not nessesserily so.  However,  that didn't really matter as  intensions had been to return via Harrops Fold Farm: as it transpired Pete had the troops wait for us-  several minutes it's said, by the BowStone main track, and the dry stone wall they had just travelled along before realising we must have gone strait over to  the Trigg on the Hill: Apparently, they could see us in front a little later on- when the mist had cleared, so all this became intriguing stuff, conjecture,  an interesting topic of conversation back at the cars:

One can always rely on something different to happen on a Tuesday's Ppotter,- even mr T turned out to witness the strange goings on.  biggrin   

17th, November, 2016: Thursday's Potter

It felt somewhat a strange day today: maybe it was to do with the fickle weather, and the bad forecasts that constantly kept ringing in one's ear: or maybe just that it was Mike's birthday run- and lead, which gave it that particular feeling: whichever?  I'd plumb now for Mike's run and frivolities later, in the warmth of his home. The run itself included a vast amount of underfoot conditions with the major share spent negotiating green fields in various state of condition- mostly soft, but one or two in exceptional state of decay; where the rains had compounded passage almost impossible without feet becoming bogged down: John Kavanagh demonstrated beautifully, how to get bogged down in two easy movements: Actually one would have been enough for mere mortals, but for this prize specimen anything goes. The route was a good one though, and Mike had done his homework, taking us over weathered outcrops of varying shapes and sizes, and into hidden watery overgrown places, where small, man made stone structures nestled: It was a pity the rain was falling, as time spent there would have enlighten minds. As it was I think  minds were more focussed on where the cars were and somewhere to dry out. 

Which takes us to Mike's lovely home and room with underfloor heating, where everyone was ushered into, and experienced a lovely warm feet sensation; to the extent that Dot and Phil, quickly stooped to the floor, and remained there until we were all summoned to the dining room. 

 

Homemade soup worth dying for was ladled into adequate bowls served with light, crusty roll, which Donworkin was allocated to cut into small portions, whenever the need arose. Needless to say the hungry mouthed soon dispatched everything; including the waiting fruit cake. 

Mike put on a sterling show in both run and as the host, back at home, but there was a moment at home when he let us all down-  by falling off his chair: Very unfortunate that one of the chair's back legs came off, so tumbling, Mike, backwards to the ground. Fortunately he was ok and the experience didn't  appear to put him of us lot. So all's well that ends well. 

 

Here's the route that Mike led. 

 

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1450802205d

 

8th, December,2016: Thursday's Potter

This week's Potter took the troops into the wilds of the river Dane, and not too far from the river's source, up near Axe Edge?  Wherever, it can be a dramatic location;  especially if the weather proves favourable.  

15th,December,2016:Thursday's  Christmas Potter

Potters Christmas dinner.

 

It appears 17 potters turned out for this now annual event; there would have been even more if fate hadn't intervened, but that's another story and no doubt will be aired at a future date. 

It's been published that the route was rather muddy for such a special occasion, so judging by the troops smiles and relaxed manner one would presume they were soon up to their calves and maybe arm pits in mire, fully surprised, though well on the way to working up an appetite for the impending meal. The run itself has the hallmark of a Mike laurence, but I could be mistaken as he's not carrying a map, and that may have  given the game away. Then it's possibly Dave Tucker led, but who would want to lead a group dressed like that ? It's hard to say really not being there, but it's definitely not little Johnny, who's displaying deep contempt regards to the occasion  by showing his arse to the camera. Another stab  I'd say it was John Kavanagh; he lives in the area, and appears to be perusing something, but one can't possibly see what as only his head is in view; but it's obvious he's looking downward: could it be at a map ? Or is it at something more personal? Perhaps we should skip this line of enquiry and move on to something less revealing, and hope the troops eventually sat down to hearty Christmas meal  and gave a toast to absent friends.  

20th,December,2016: Tuesday's Potter.

10 potterers descended on Prestbury  village for a perambulation of sorts into the lush interior of this notable place, but a minor problem with car parking proved too much for one of the group so he returned from whence he came to leave but 9 in attendance to enjoy the morning's outing.

The weather proved fine and the ground underfoot was surprisingly bog free for this time of year that a spring in one's feet could justly be detected. Cynthia, led the party on a route she devised sometime last year,and which I couldn't follow as Al was suffering with an injury: things weren't that much different this time as an hernia op had laid him down low for many weeks, but he did attend and made a nuisance of himself- just for the fun of it. It's a pity no one took any pictures on the way round as there were plenty of opportunities for a good image in this very attractive of locations. A part of the route; near the Kings Head, Mottram, is a lovely back-water setting, where in previous times a menagerie of animals foraged amongst the litter; it's now silent but one could imagine a Whisky Still in action and hillbilly types occupying the site: the image above was taken sometime ago in the locale to give some inkling of what can happen in these situations. As it was, Cynthia headed left on a different path, rather than right, which would have taken the troops to this particularly place again. But never mind, there were other places of interest worthy a mention, though, perhaps better left until another time.

 

Once back at base, hungry mouths disappeared into Henry's to attack the palatable menu, where the home made Mushroom soup and soda bread went down a real treat  followed by Victoria Sponge and the ineviitable tea to end a marvellous occasion.  

29th, December, 2016:  Thursday's Potter.

Here is a fine, winter picture of the potters, all a foot on White Nancy, soaking up the bright sunshine in cold conditions. God only knows where they are heading for but one could sumise a  hot tea and various of cake on some table, that is once the kits been changed to something more appropriate and suitable for the middling eateries in the strange but acceptable town of Bollington, where the indigenous folk are stranger than fiction, and indulge ( at certain times of the year) in diverse rituals only they could explain. In day's gone by- and possibly real time too, incest was a practice that carried on within its boarders, and sharp eyes, if one was fortunate enough to possess such 20 20 vision, couldn't but notice the five fingered hands attached to the the ruddy faced bumpkins that descended from farming fraternity. The women were more fortunate in that they could hide their modesties underneath their  crinolines, and their three breasted cleavage well hidden from prying eyes and the three legged cows that hold a special place in this place of the dysfunctional. But hey! All's not that bad; it has some lovely countryside where our type get a buz from crossing ancient fields, home to some dry stone walls which go back almost millennia, as do some of the pretty hamlets, such as Billinge and colourful names like Plunge Brook, which conjours up all manner of imagery. 

I'm a paragraph heading

A rather different bank holiday Monday, saw 3, young at heart intrepid types strike out from Tegg's Nose Country Park onto frost laden fields in the direction of Lamaload Res',  with the intention of exploring a plethora of old rusting, mangled, dilapidated machinery, that has, over the ravages of time been losing its formation to the elements from its Confines of  the ruined Higher Ballgreave Farm; and, without doubt, will be snuffed out in not so many years hence- such is the destructive power around us. 

Anyway, there we were enjoying the magnificent views in bright sunlight while Molly cocked her leg for a pee in a place that must have pleased her; as her tail was wagging furiously: what was the scent I wonder ? : only she could say- but if she could speak our lives would be changed forever, and I'd probably buy a dog just to see if the mut would say something: It'd have to be bitch though, as I'd like to compare its reasoning to a woman's way of thinking: could you imagine the hours of joy one would have sitting in an armchair by a warm winters fire and the dog lying there in the hearth, talking about another bitch it came across while out on a scratch and discussing its owner's mannerisms and choice of dress and the way she scooped up the poo of her pet. 

Already we're at the Farm now, and Johnny's eyes are full of fascination amongst the rusting piles and decay: He mounts an old tractor as though it would start up without a problem, though we knew it'd take more than a miracle for a reaction like that to happen, or on anything els that's been strewn around the confines of this desolate  of places.

All good times come to an end and it wasn't long before Andrew, Johnny and Donworkin, made there way back to Tegg's Nose, but, unfortunately, to be confronted by more cars and people ever seen there before: A brew and a bite in the Cafe was virtually impossible so made our different ways home with the knowledge we'd at least accomplished something during the morning. 

 

10th, January, 2017: Tuesday's Potter.

A dank and dreary morning greeted the troops at Redesmere Lake, that only the wildlife sounds on and around the lake prevented one from nodding off into dream-land and better places to be. But all wasn't so dire as Pete had hatched a route, though not spectacular was good enough to focus the mind and concentrate on where one put one's foot in the slushy parts of this normally verdant terrain. The section round the sand-pit lake, though not long, appeared just that; maybe because of its open aspect, or possibly this scribe's not as fit as he should really be. Anyway, it was good to be out there once again, mixing it with the fruit cakes and listening to the banter they exude that, at times, drifted on the ether, where one could discernibly hear what they were on about: that's the disadvantage of being off, the-back-of-the-pack, but at least words were comprehended. Then, before we knew it Capethorn Hall, came into view and an excuse for a photo shoot in front of its attractive though robust bridge, where Jim, appears to take on as pair of bookends to the couple of pictures Neil had kindly taken of the group.

 

12th, January,2017: Thursday's Potter

12th, January, 2017: Thursday's Potter

Once more, not  very nice conditions, for a lifting run in this supposedly salubrious area of Alderley, but 16 hardy souls turned out for this little sally in the woods of Alderley Park, covering other ground to boot. One wasn't acquainted in whether Tucker knew or recc'ed the route before hand; or if he was purely relying on his sat-nav-of-a-gadget which he often takes along with himself when exploring less in accessible places to visit, but, at times, and on this occasion, he had us in a tizzy as to which way we were meant to head, which, on occasions, proved difficult. But then we're mostly in the hands of the gods when certain, particular people lead the troops. That said, the man know's his Alderley Park, and all that lies within its boundaries: As a site, which is still owned ( one thinks) by Astra-Zeneca, most of the buildings appear functional and un appealing, but they're handily  dispersed about the place, amongst the fine greenery, which perhaps lessens their impact. What does lessen their appearance is the large array of old Stable blocks,yards and other interesting features  we came across today, that had fortunately been retained when the powers that be allowed the handsome old hall to be flattened for the sake of what one can see in situ today. 

 

Post run, most runners  took to the adequately furnished Wizerd Tea Room, where the variety of goodies were numerous, as were the table and chairs for such a middling place.  

 

15th, January, 2017: Tuesday's Potter.

Once more, not  very nice conditions, for a lifting run in this supposedly salubrious area of Alderley, but 16 hardy souls turned out for this little sally in the woods of Alderley Park, covering other ground to boot. One wasn't acquainted in whether Tucker knew or recc'ed the route before hand; or if he was purely relying on his sat-nav-of-a-gadget which he often takes along with himself when exploring less in accessible places to visit, but, at times, and on this occasion, he had us in a tizzy as to which way we were meant to head, which, on occasions, proved difficult. But then we're mostly in the hands of the gods when certain, particular people lead the troops. That said, the man know's his Alderley Park, and all that lies within its boundaries: As a site, which is still owned ( one thinks) by Astra-Zeneca, most of the buildings appear functional and un appealing, but they're handily  dispersed about the place, amongst the fine greenery, which perhaps lessens their impact. What does lessen their appearance is the large array of old Stable blocks,yards and other interesting features  we came across today, that had fortunately been retained when the powers that be allowed the handsome old hall to be flattened for the sake of what one can see in situ today. 

 

Post run, most runners  took to the adequately furnished Wizerd Tea Room, where the variety of goodies were numerous, as were the table and chairs for such a middling place.  

 

19th, January, 2017: Thursday's Potter

Steve Woods  provided these striking images of the troops somewhere out there on a bank during this morning's ppotter. And, may I presume, at the time of exposure the route was almost completed; as one can clearly see everyone was walking, as against running, which, one would firmly expect of such a fine fighting foce. But then times appear to be changing, and outlooks different: perhaps what went on for some the previous day may have had some impact on others present, that affected their morning's fulfilment,  rendering them all indifferent to the art of running. But who knows?  The only sure thing is that, apres run, Grant would have made provision for a hearty lunch wherever that may have occurred, and his entourage to boot.