Out on the wild and windy moor

...you had a temper, just like my jealousy, too hot, too greedy....

Apologies to Kate Bush fans for misremembered lyrics to  her Wuthering Heights song. I only know Yorkshire through the works of the Brontë sisters and James Heriot. The blueish flat-top mountain in the distance on the right is Ingleborough fell.

Anyway, there we were, waiting for a steam train to pass over Ribblehead viaduct. CleanSteve got a shot of it. The sky was leaden. We'd spent the previous night in the village of Ingleton. The pub was good, the kitchen and bathroom at our air v b b were fine, but the bedroom was so small we had to take turns to be in it while not actually sleeping, and Steve described the bed as a bouncy castle!  Lesson learned.

Flooring our train adventure, we headed back to the motorway via the picturesque village of Hornby, and resumed our journey to Stroud.

It's good to be back, sad that Bomble is no longer here, but I'm glad that the garden was improved before we went away. Our neighbour has made some further improvements by cutting down some trees on her side. This means we have a tiny bit of a view now, and that I can have another bonfire. Woo hoo!