A Good Measure

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It seems remarkable that last week parts of Yorkshire were reporting snow, and now we are pushing towards seventy degrees Fahrenheit and beyond; there has been very little rain in recent weeks, and some reservoirs are looking quite low. The sunshine is encouraging us to escape into the countryside, yet most folk are content to stick to major roads and the joys of traffic jams to and from the coast.

This is a good thing for anyone who loves minor roads with grass growing down the middle, and even on a Bank Holiday it's possible to be virtually alone in the Yorkshire Wolds or the Moors back routes towards Whitby. Sheep are often derided for flocking together, but we humans seem very nervous straying from the safety of wide tarmac and built-up areas.

Many English folk will be praying for that elusive 'barbecue summer' avoiding the need to take a flight through volcanic ash, and enjoying a large portion of fish and chips by the North Sea (other areas of salty water are available). I will always have a powerful urge to escape other humans, particularly the small-minded women of our little community on the edge of the Yorkshire Wolds. A man will usually be happier in his shed, garage or allotment, but many women are only kept alive by petty gossip (according to my detailed and scientifically robust study over several years in 'The Village'). These characters are the rural, 'human' equivalent of our worst tabloid newspapers, but without the humour.