Had been a slow start to the day, and well after the hour of 10 before the kettle was first boiled. Stood bleary-eyed and fully slippered, peering out from the glow of my little lounge at a typical Cumbrian November day that was fully installed. With everything damp and bathed in fine particles of mizzle, the ubiquitous grey was all consuming.
Having gently become alive thanks to more kettle boiling, a spot of Greta Van Fleet, a roasting shower and fresh socks, eventually I took to my bicycle and landed in Ulverston. The saddle had come loose half way, causing me to adopt a kind of 'waddle' of sorts, so the first stop was 'Ride Bikes' for allen keys to remedy. “Howdy Dan, nice suit, Sir”.
Now, having realised it was the Dickensian Festival, fixed my saddle, bought some cheese and returned to my little cave in Urswick, a quick turnaround and a swap to an engined bicycle saw me heading back to Ulverston keenly – this time with a camera, and a much larger saddle.
Wandering gently through the town as smoke hung in the air and carols from the brass band wafted through the streets was rewarding for the soul. With characters popping up in every corner and laughter as ubiquitous as the mizzle, I thank you, Ulverston, for a most excellent Sunday. A little time capsule.
A few shots from my wander...