We had a day out in Lincoln yesterday.
It was a beautiful day, and it reminded us fen-dwellers what hills were all about, especially the one with the unneccesarily descriptive name of ‘Steep Hill’.Â Â There were benches at various points along the way, which was fortunate, and the weather was nice and sunny and dry, which was also fortunate, because if it had been wet I’d have slipped on the cobbles and tumbled all the way to the bottom, where my corpse would have been found and cried over by OH – unless, of course, he’d also slipped and fallen with me.Â Heaven knows how the young girls were managing to stay upright on their high heels at that angle, but there you go.Â I was glad of my trainers, that’s for sure.
Anyway. Right at the top of Steep Hill is the cathedral, and we wandered in to enjoy a little stroll on level ground before we hit the slopes again.Â Right at the back, all by himself, we found Alfred, Lord Tennyson, on a plinth.Â We didn’t know it was him at first, and OH said that he was ‘an ugly bugger’ whoever he was, but in the interests of knowledge and education I circumnavigated the plinth and discovered his identity.Â And I found that little verse up there, which is inscribed under his name.
Well, well.Â Such deep and inscrutable thoughts.Â And I thought he was probably saying -
‘Here, Fuzz-face – have you been chewing my socks again?’