Ghosthunting season is back up on us. Spent some hours raking about in the basements of Knottingley Town Hall on Friday.
Wasn’t as keen on this one. Even though we did manage to arrive on time this time.
The basement was good but I would have liked more time to wander around it. Wasn’t as interested in the upstairs area, especially the part where two people in the circle seemingly had their hands raised in the air by unseen hands and remained there for 40 (that’s FORTY!) minutes while a man commanded by the power of St Michael, all that is holy and the power of Greyskull, for their hands to be lowered. Linda and I were bored shitless so we broke the circle (“don’t cross the streams”). Rather than be allowed to perhaps go rogue at this point and do a little wandering or piss about on a ouija board, we had to sit /stand in the dark waiting for these sodding hands to be lowered. I was very respectful but inside my head I was screaming “FFS put your bloody arms down you dozy cows”.
So, despite the feeling that someone rather chilly was sat in my lap at one point in the cellar and that someone equally as chilly had walked through me during the stupid human pendulum, duck duck goose circle time – I wasn’t impressed with this one.
Saturday morning I set off to Malton to meet Gill, as the rest of my Fam had gone to Farndale on Friday night while I was arsing about in the dark. We had a most civilised luncheon in Malton and a float around the food fair. I made purchase of some cheese, some pork pies for Bman and treated myself to two bottles of artisan cider brewed in Ryedale.
There were concerns that we may not make it all the way back to the house in the car due to the snow, but by the time we got into Farndale it was clear that most of it had gone. However, there was still a bit of black ice. I discovered that the hard way when I got out of the car with 3 bags. One second I was vertical, the next I was face down on the ground, laid in the mud, bleeding from where my chin broke my fall on a rock and now only in possession of one bottle of artisan cider. The other smashed to smithereens!
It really shook me up, I won’t lie. Thank goodness I’ve got such a Desperate Dan chin to help break my fall. Could have been worse. Could have broken my nose or my cheekbone or lost a tooth and had to spend Saturday night at A&E – probably in Scarborough. Nightmare!
My broken face was a bit of a party killer and I ended up in bed by 10:30pm, so not the usual drunken shenanegins of a weekend in the Dales. But still a good laugh. It’s only a shame that there was no video footage of me stacking it!
The next day, as if I hadn’t hurt myself enough, I was pursuaded by my youngest to have a go at bareback horse riding. Never having been on a horse, but always quite fancied it, I was game. It wasn’t a very big horse. But it felt high to me. I didn’t stay aboard for long before I panicked about falling again so I got off. My youngest was like a natural though. Hopefully she won’t decide to take it up as a hobby. I’ll be forced to steal one of the local piebald ponies that tend to wander freely around the neighbourhood and keep it in the garden.
When we got home I fired up my remaining bottle of artisan cider and it was rank! I threw it down the sink. Gutted! It ended up costing me a fiver after the second one broke.
Its half term now and I am ready for it. Am about to head out to meet a friend for lunch. Hopefully I won’t fall over on the way.
Ciao Ciao Xx