What's up Duck!

 

First time away from home since November. A pleasant but not comparable alternative to Malta or Tenerife (or even Brisbane!) is South Derbyshire. Here's Vicky sitting on the steps of the bandstand in Crossley Park in Ripley. Sunday afternoon in late summer listening to the Newstead Brass Band must be one of the finest ways to spend time - hopefully after a year's break this will come to pass in 2021 - we must go back.  Ripley is located in the East Midlands and was very much involved with the early stages of the industrial revolution. Crossley Park is a piece of land close to the town centre that was donated by James Crossley in 1901, he was a local businessman who made his money in a variety of ways including supplying the town gas and building a textile mill. Other earlier entrepreneurs took advantage of the plentiful deposits of coal and iron locally and the area became known for its advanced (for the eighteenth century) steelmaking techniques. 

The bulk of the industry has now disappeared and the surrounding countryside has reverted to woodland and farmland criss crossed by an astonishing network of footpaths which must be those that the factory workers from the local villages took on their way to work. During our short stay I donned my running shoes and explored the plethora of paths and bridleways. On my return I looked at the satellite map of the route I'd taken; I'd run alongside a large cowfield with splendid acres of lush green grass waving in the breeze. Looking at this scene from above however there's clear evidence of human activity from long ago. Could there have been a Roman villa here? Or maybe a much earlier neolithic settlement? I would think the less romantic and more prosaic explanation might be related to the industry of the past few hundred years.

In this part of the Midlands visitors are very often puzzled and surprised to be called 'Duck' It's a local term of endearment and people slip it into their everyday conversation all the time. Our accommodation for our short stay was above a small supermarket and I popped down for a few bottles of ale to go with our supper. The chap behind the counter called me 'duck' three or four times during our brief conversation and having known what to expect I wasn't in the least bit put out. What did surprise me was the name of the local brewery from just down the road in Derby: