stream of conscious

The great reddish giant orb shone its splender across the streets of Manchester, with the sea-blue unmixed. it was going to be one of those long hot sweltering sunny days in which in this part of the world was very scarce. A little girl shouted " a tram! " as the carriage turned s-like passed the department store, her mother protected her as a large "poop poop " voice echoed a welcome for the watching foot-passengers. Even though it was a new morning and the world doing its capital business of day to day normality, I with nonchalance started on a journey into the country, a place called the Peak District. It was roughly 20 miles outside of Manchester.

On arriving a cricket match was in progress between two local villages. A batman hit the ball, cracking the sound waves around as a fielder ran without success in picking up the ball as the umpire signaled  a " four. " The bowler was now armed again ready for his run up. The batsman gripped his bat as if he was holding Excalibur.

Hayfield was the place. Little houses like the ones you see on biscuit tins. Sandy in coulour, they mix very well with the scene as the green hills distant watch. Up here the cool breeze is different, giving a feeling of well-being, as if being alive meant something. This excistance fills my mind with "god - given " thoughts, if only it was the same in the towns and cities. It was mid day now, the sun made the atmosphere bright in expected joy as I made my way out of the village and into the country.

Steep steps were my companion now, Breaths that were easy moments ago are now getting deeper and longer, but making me feel " great! "  Soon the bare dusty path straighten leaving in front of me a vista of a body of water no more than one mile in length and haft a mile in its wideness. All around it  surrounded by hills of continuous nature giving an impression of a amphitheater. Standing there feeling alone but not alone accessed thoughts so fathomable that I began to sense a serine belonging, as though this escape freed me from my chains of life with all its subplots. I breathed, then...again, taking in the medicine. East of the body of water was Kinder Scout, a hill, not a mountain of roughly 700 feet stood kingship - like was for my part my target for the day. Two fluttering butterflies flew pass reminding me of " The Battle of Britain. " How free they seemed to be, but of course mother nature is not like that, most times it can be evil, cruel in fact in its contempt. With this I went my merry way down hill towards the water. Nothing could be heard now but the slow sloshing of liquid rising minutely on the always drying sandstone walls. Looking into the water, I had this urge to dive in. But with so many fatal deaths from misadventure thought better of it. Shame though. Suddenly my mind was made to see the rolling undulating water dance as the sun shone brown, giving an appearance of golden plumbing washers bobbing up and down, up and down, squinting my eyes, imprinting upon me of Californian gold nuggets sticking in view from the rich dirt. And rich in mind I was, if I could share this I would indeed. Promptly I transposed along the waters edge towards a small tributary that fed into Kinder Reservoir. Again I stopped, scanned 360 decrees. Liverpool from the West, Manchester, here, then Sheffield, Northwards Leeds, turn, then East heading into Kingston-upon-Hull and eventually the vast body of water called the North Sea..Being situated as I was, was akin of being in some giant New York Central Park surrounded by concrete.

A steep climb in reaching the top was my next objective. After leaving the foot-bridge, I took my first steps onto Kinder Scout itself. Along its long wavey ridge could spot dots moving from North to South and South to North. A first sight of others since leaving village. Mapped out in front of me, going all the way to the summit was a worn-out flatten path with continued windenings of lose dry soil by its side. Furher up, it " branched- out " like little veins on an old persons hand. Some went all the way, while others lenthened and died to a full stop. On a clear day as such as this, a chart was not needed. Higher, the slighter strong breezed filled my lungs and mind, giving me a sense of joy. Even a Bee flew passed, buzzing me up and down, side by side as if enjoying this natural obstacle course. " I wished I was him! " Alas no, but empathy yes! Soon I took stock and sat down for some food and drink. Then I had an orange juice. Its smoothness refreshed me after which I had a snicker bar, that I must admit was hard to swallow! Still eaten all the same. Who needs a book when you've got this?