Between a rock and a hard place.

Out on my travels I came upon some lovely rock, the sort of thing you have to go and take a look at and if you have a blog to feed, take photographs of for the ‘post pantry’.


I was so entranced by the stones, they’re limestone,


with chunks of fluorite, quartz and fossils in them (but not as many as fossils as this blogger found) that I didn’t hear anyone approach.

‘CAN I HELP?’ came a voice from behind me, I turned to be faced by a some what cross looking lady farmer, one hand on hip and the other holding her up her wet hair in a coiled towel; her body language led me to conclude my interest in these fine lumps of rock was not welcome.

‘I was just admiring these lumps of rock, they are beautiful’ phew, I’ve said the right thing, the lady farmer relaxed a little.

‘Do you like them? they are for my rockery’, she enthused, ‘I was just washing my hair, when I saw you by the gate, I thought you were from the council, I was already to tell you they are on private land and to clear off’

She went on to explain that they had been excavated by a friend who was making some alterations to some farm buildings, (now if I had lumps of rock this big any where near the foundations of my property I would leave them there, especially as the the geology of the area means that it is riddled with old mine workings and huge natural caverns.

We went on to discuss what make a ‘nice’ lump of rock, dry stone walls and parted, despite the initial hostility as friends, by mutual interests.