Wolds Diary: Pheasants affronted by drivers on Wolds roads

A perfect healthy male pheasant sits on top of a dry stone wall at Pilsley
A perfect healthy male pheasant sits on top of a dry stone wall at Pilsley

After returning from church last Sunday, the dogs and I ventured out for a walk which was cut short by the heavens opening and a deluge coming down.

All this week I’ve been busy trying to reorganise my home, to resemble some semblance of order. I have worked out that is not a natural talent of mine.

On the Monday I went to pick up my new spectacles from the opticians. I must admit they really do make life a little easier, especially with close work. Then it was off for one of the longer and very muddy walks that the dogs and I both enjoyed.

I did a bit of gardening when I returned, and managed to pick quite a few passion fruit from my passionflower plants that are still in full bloom despite the weather.

The leaves are dropping from the trees in their millions at the moment, carpeting the world with delicious russet shades and wherever I look the view is full of colour.

I once made the mistake of asking someone if they knew why the leaves changed colour. They did and I got a two-hour lecture about it.

Now I just accept things as they are with nature. There is a downside, almost literally, to a carpet of thick leaves, –you can’t see what is actually under your feet and I have tripped or fallen and landed in mud a couple of times.

On the Tuesday after the usual early morning stroll, I took off to Scarborough via Monks Cross, where I did some shopping.

I took my little terrier, Brillo, with me. She loves a ride in the car and watched out of the window with great excitement until it became too much for her, so she slept the rest of the way, snoring faintly.

My friend had asked me to be there when she saw someone who was giving her advice about equity release.

Then, laden with gifts, I returned home. Knowing the road I usually take was closed, I came back a new way, across county, through the most beautiful part of Wolds scenery, which was almost exclusively agricultural and I was presented with a visage of rolling green fields with the occasional tractor or quad bike.

The only problem was the suicidal pheasants that seemed most affronted if you wanted to drive down the country lane in which they decided to hold a bevy.

(One of the gifts my friend had bestowed on me were two posters with the correct collective nouns for animals and people and these now adorn my cupboard doors in the kitchen.)

I’ve been making the occasional visit to our local tip, as a result of the clear out, and combined with the necessary shopping and other talks Wednesday was rather mundane for me.

Early on Thursday morning I popped into church to collect a packet of ties that someone – I have no idea who but thank you – had left for me.

I also managed to get the final score for the Sorcerer and, with it added to all the others, I drove down to Hull and returned all the borrowed scores to the music library there.

I stopped off on the outskirts of Hull to visit a Polish supermarket. They did have some delicious chocolates, and as it was my birthday I allowed myself a few.

My cousin arrived late that afternoon and she insisted on taking me out for a meal, but her dietary preferences are rather exact so I remembered an excellent pub at Wilberfoss where I had eaten before and we went there. The food was superb and they couldn’t have been more obliging, and the waitresses were lovely.

On Saturday evening I went to a party at a neighbour’s house, held to welcome our new resident, and had a great evening with almost all of the close neighbours, some of whom I had not met before.

It was a very relaxed and pleasant evening in fascinating company and somewhat inebriated I got home to bed – I’m lucky to live in a really great neighbourhood.