I woke up in my hotel room at 6am and felt wide awake. Not being able to get back to sleep if I’d tried, I decided to take a walk around the local countryside before breakfast.
Staffordshire is a great county, truly. It doesn’t get the plaudits of Cumbria, or Devon, but I tell thee – it’s right up there. It’s got fantastic scenery, winding roads, dramatic hills, lush forests… It’s great. And so I set off with a spring in my step though Rudyard, down to a mini roundabout, and then picking a direction at random. I was whistling and all seemed well with the world.
It soon got better as I came across a sign for a miniature steam railway, and despite knowing it wouldn’t be running, made my way up to the station. You know me and trains. There wasn’t anyone about, unsurprisingly, but the line let off through some trees and next to it was a wide footpath. It’s called the Rudyard Lake Steam Railway, and the line is very narrow although it seemed as if there used to be a full sized railway here at one time because I appeared to be walking along the track bed where a line once ran. I followed it for about a kilometre, until I came across a reservoir with a beautiful, Victorian dam, boathouses, and several vessels dotted about on it’s surface. The sun broke through, and it was a perfect early morning scene. It was almost life affirming. I tell you, when one day in the future I’m destitute, or in prison, I’ll look back at how good life once was and I could well target the morning of Thursday, 18th of May as a prime example. I didn’t really have anything to think about but the scenery, I had a big breakfast waiting for me when I got back to the hotel, I had a steam railway track to play with, I had the company of the chirping birds… It was a really great feeling.
Some people say morning is the best part of the day and they are plain wrong, but it CAN be the best part of the day if you find yourself in the right circumstance and this was pretty perfect. I walked across the dam and then down to a (again Victorian) water ‘feature’ that fed water from the reservoir into the start of a river, which I later learnt was a feeder for the Trent Mersey Canal. A large pool of water was overflowing into manmade channels, which then merged to form a strong stream that led off into the wood. The sound of the water, the crisp air and the morning sun made this a tremendous thing to explore and I did so happily for a few minutes before returning to the top of the dam.
There was an information board about the reservoir, which is actually called Rudyard Lake, and a picture entitled ‘Gala Day’ which dated from about 1900 and showed gents in boater hats and blazers rowing their ladies about. I’d bloody love to have been there. But my walk had now taken a fair while and so I decided to head back to the hotel.
When I reached the railway line, a woman walking her small dog appeared and we swapped ‘Good Mornings’, as you do, and she set off in the direction I was intending to walk. I therefore followed her down the wooded path and that awful situation came up that happens whenever you’re walking behind a woman in a strange and isolated place, you try to look as least threatening as possible because you know they’re imagining local newspaper headlines and wondering why I’m wearing a suit jacket at 7am in a wood. It horrible, but all men will have felt awkward about this. Generally, especially if you’re tall, you’ll walk faster than a woman and this means you gradually close the gap between you and her, and you know they’re not necessarily scared but are definitely considering if you’re a maniac or not. I’ve stopped before. On a dark street for example, just stopped walking to prove I’m not a nutter. Or gone a different route. It’s madness.
In this instance, the woman actually broke into a jog. I’m positive she wasn’t trying to get away from me, and was just in the practice of putting some light running into her exercise routine, but on the other hand she was wearing Wellington boots, not quite suited for running, and the small dog looked like it wasn’t quite used to this sort of pace. Anyway, I hope she didn’t think I was a madman. I didn’t let it spoil my morning.
I eventually got back to my hotel and looked around the back of the building where there was a car park and a short path leading down to a nearby lake. Hang on… I walked down the path. I was standing on the dam! I was at the point I’d ended my walk and turned back! The pool of water leading into channels that form the stream was OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW! I remembered standing by this pool and looking up at a building thinking ‘that’s quite a grand house’, not realising I was looking at the window to the room I’d been asleep in an hour previous. I despair of myself. I could have saved that woman a lot of worry about being attacked too.
I ordered a full breakfast in the empty ‘breakfast room’ of the hotel, and red a local paper. I’d worked up an appetite, but here’s the thing with fried breakfasts, I like everything about them right up to the point it arrives. Then I can be a bit queasy. There’s very little in them I enjoy. The meat in general is a bit heavy – the eggs are welcome enough and the beans I can take or leave. It’s the sort of meal you think you want but rarely do, especially at 8am.
But breakfast aside, I can’t remember a day starting any better.
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