This time, just for a change, instead of walking around and over the hills of Derbyshire, I would go and have a look at the River Trent at Gunthorpe in Nottinghamshire.
It would be a more pleasing to do this, mainly because the Trent Valley is a lot flatter than are the hills that I had flogged up, down and around whilst exploring Derbyshire's bumpy bits.
I took my camera along, intending to capture lots of views of this picturesque area.
So off I went to the railway station and travelled to Nottingham, here I changed trains and arrived at Lowdham after a second train journey of about ten to fifteen minutes.
As the train left on its journey to Lincoln I looked around and was cheered by what I saw.
Apart from one or two modifications made to the railway halt, not a lot had changed.
This, I liked.
It was with a happier heart that I set off on my walk.
Deciding to travel first to Caythorpe, which is about a mile distant... maybe less, from Lowdham, I became aware of the level of background noise-there was very little of it emanating from human sources-no motor vehicles.
The local bird population made the most raucous contribution.
As you walk from into this village, you pass an old red telephone box that has found a new role.
It is no longer used for the task it was originally designed for. It now had found a new role as a book repository.
The inhabitants of Caythorpe can, if they want, leave any books that they have read in there and perhaps find something new to read.
There were quite a few books there.
To me this is a novel idea!
After walking through the village I came across a bridle path that led to the river.
Striking out along the edge of the field I became aware of the enjoyable solitude that is to be found there and for a while I just stood, absorbing the sights, sounds and smells of the location.
The cloud formation caught my attention and I decided to get a snapshot of it.
I like the banal, the overlooked and the generally ignored because they are so interesting.
I don't know what it is but as soon as you start fiddling about with your camera, attaching it to your monopod, setting your shot up, people appear, as if by magic.
Since I was in a rural location these people seemed to fit a kind of stereotype in that they were generally of sturdy build with an attitude to life that may be summarized as belonging to the " Hail fellow well met! "...and the males were pretty much of the same ilk.These people were kind that you might expect to see lurking around with their dogs in the background of television dramas such as " Midsomer Murders " as the grisly scene where the discovery of the corpse is made.
Walking on a little way on I came to a gate and beyond that lay the river bank.
It was here that I found what I was seeking, solitude and I revelled in it.
Cheered, I decided to take some photographs.
Once more, as soon as I started fiddling about with my camera, people started appearing.
After a while it seemed that all these folk had gone on their merry way and I started to take some shots.
I then heard the sound made by the water as it lapped against the rivers bank.
The gentle breeze moaned as it passed around the leaves of nearby trees and both birds and insects added an appropriate acoustic accompaniment to my new-found idyll.
I sat there almost immobile, almost drunk with glory in my situation.I revelled in my solitude.
A new noise broke in-a chugging noise
I looked up and down the length of the river and there was yet another pleasure cruiser making its way upstream.
I thought about grabbing a shot of it as it passed by-but I couldn't be bothered.
Looking up along the river I spied yet another boat coming downstream.
It was another pleasure cruiser, although this one had been a barge in a past life.
I waited until they were passing each other before taking my shot.
Peace returned once more and I became absorbed in watching some Damsel Flies as they flitted to and fro.
I looked up and spied yet another barge coming down the river and about 100 yards behind it, another one.
Where were they all coming from?
I then remembered that I was about a mile downstream from Gunthorpe Lock and also about a mile upstream from Bleasby Lock and that was why there was all this river traffic that seemed to be travelling in pulses.
I gave up on any idea of photographing more scenes and followed the path to Gunthorpe Lock.
The place was crowded, all seemed to be making use of the cafe which had been turned into a bistro (with concomitant hikes in the price of the food on sale ), so I gave that place the once-over and left.
Passing another 'exclusive' 'Eaterie' my heart began to sink- they had even closed the small boatyard-is nothing sacred?
Closer examination revealed that all that had really happened was that they had repainted the building and put a proper café ( a 'caff' ) in part of it.
A closer examination was needed.
Before long I was tucking in to a Sausage Sandwich and drinking a mug of Tea that didn't cost me the Earth nor did the items suffer from an overly florid description of their state of being.
It was as Sausage sandwich and a mug of tea.
I cheered up.
Thus revived I decided that it was time to head back to Lowdham to catch the train to home.
Walking alongside a main road is not a pleasant experience so, ignoring the noise of the road traffic, I made fairly short work of the mile or so distance and was lucky enough not to have wait to long for my homeward train.
It was a pleasant amble through an attractive piece of country.
