By WharfedaleBex

Calm between storms C and D

It must be a mistake.  Why would I have a voice message on Messenger? 

Puzzled, clicks play.  

Wait for it... 

Cue the first thirty seconds of the finest rendition of Yorkshire's anthem I've ever heard.  Ilkla Moor Baht 'at, sung by a Frenchman with a ukulele in perfect Yorkshire English and the softest French lilt.  It was enough to make your my heart melt and overspill onto your my cheek.  Jason!  

As I sit between one vile storm and the next, it's triggered those fine memories from last week.  Meeting a random French person on the moors could have had its problems but I couldn't have happened upon a kinder spirited person.

So, what else could I do after nearing the end of my morning ride but take an extension over the Cow and Calf to reach home.  It even registered that: 


added in huge letters at the time of the Tour de Yorkshire half way up the moors road, is referring to the song not a famous female cyclist!  

I did a few of my own out of breath renditions.  (You would have been disappointed!)

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you might like to listen to a modern version with some famous faces of Yorkshire's very old folk song (lyrics in plain English too!)

The delights of the morning were all stabbed short, however, with a trip to the nurse for a typhoid jab.

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