Sunday 27th August 2006

Had a beautiful drive from Clitheroe to Lancaster through the Trough of Bowland. The weather was a mixture of sunshine and cloud that gave everything the texture of a watercolour. If ever my six numbers come to fruition I know where I shall be heading to look for a new property. It’s a world of old villages and churches set in rolling hills framed by blazing purple moorland. Everything reeks of permanence and continuity bound within the natural world. Had a brief detour to Morecambe and I want to use the word decaying grandeur about the place but mostly it’s decaying and rather strange. It has none of the exuberance of Blackpool, or the class of Southport. Shame really as it has splendid views over a wide, arcing bay and the hills of the Lake District.