Tunnels

Goodness gracious - Angie in trousers.  It's a bit too hot for
my denim skirt and still too cool for a summer one,
hence this break with tradition.

I'm not sure why tunnels are fascinating.  I live in a very beautiful part of the country and none of its splendour can be appreciated from within a tunnel, yet I'm invariably drawn to explore them.

Once upon a time a railway ran along the hillside above Lydbrook, in the Forest of Dean. Never startlingly busy, it lost its its passenger trains as long ago as 1929 but survived for freight until the mid 50's and was finally ripped up in 1959. Today, most of the track bed has become a very pleasant woodland walk and cycle track. A short section is now on private property... but more of that later.

I explored the area over two days last week, making my way to the end of the valley, with this lovely view over the River Wye.

Backtracking (sorry for the pun!) I decided to see how close I could get to the private bit and emerged in front of a friendly-looking lady who was tending her garden.  
"I'm sorry," said I. "I know I've wandered off the right of way."
"That's quite all right," she replied.  "This is a shared driveway for several properties but you're welcome to use it."

I thanked her warmly, knowing that there was a short tunnel on this stretch of the line... and a couple of hundred yards further on, there it was — Coles Rock Tunnel. 

The walk between Coles Rock and the head of the valley is really beautiful at this time of the year, whilst the course of a tramway, that pre-dated the railway, can clearly be seen in several places, giving me even more old byways to explore.

At the head of the valley the old railway passed through a deep cutting to the north entrance to Miery Stock Tunnel. I'm indebted to my trusty reference book Rails Through the Forest for the information that, about 20 years after the track had been lifted, the Forestry Commission determined that the steep-sided cutting constituted a public hazard, so they filled it with 30,000 tons of colliery waste.

Later, the cycle track and walkway was created on the old track bed. Because the tunnel was no longer accessible, the track was diverted to this rather dangerous crossing of the busy A4136, Then, in 2005, local residents won a lottery grant to have the cutting cleared and by 2008 all seemed ready for the tunnel to be reopened... but there things stopped. Seven years later, Miery Stock's tunnel mouths are still bricked up. 

 

Here's the southern portal of Miery Stock Tunnel, waiting patiently for someone to clear away the undergrowth and give it the kiss of life.

I'm actually quite surprised that some enterprising individual (or group) hasn't surreptitiously demolished the walls that seal the tunnel and 'unofficially' re-opened it.  For that is what's happened at Lydbrook tunnel, just a few miles down the line, which Lucy Melford and I explored a few weeks ago.

A few of my friends, armed with torches, have walked right through the tunnel.  Perhaps I may follow in their footsteps one day, but there's so much more to see by walking around the hill.  Which brings me back to where this little post began. 

Still a pedant

One of the most frequently read posts on this blog is "Pedantic, or just logical?" — first published in October last year and never out of my 'Popular Posts' list since then. Clearly, I am neither alone in my loathing of badly written signs, nor in my love of silly ones.  So, as a sequel, I give you this one, spotted near my cousin Jan's home.  Perhaps someone could explain why a gate is needed there at all!

Sadly, my all-time favourite no longer exists and, idiot that I am, I never photographed it.  On my way home from work, I would pass Little Carworgie Farm, which offered Bed and Breakfast to prospective clients.  To my great amusement, the farm name and the service it offered were printed too close together, and so read:

So, for all time, I have lost my chance to stay in a little bed at a genuine Breakfast Farm.  I wonder what they're like?

There is a house in Mosely Green, they call....

Mosely Green is 5 minutes' drive from my home, in the heart of the Forest of Dean.  It's a favourite feasting spot when friends visit Chez Angie. It's also the venue for my latest quest to widen my circle of friends and enrich my social life. 

Since last September I've been learning to play the ukukele, and reckon that my skills are now good enough to join a ukulele group.  Such groups are springing up all over the country as ukulele playing enjoys a surge in popularity, but it was a pleasant surprise to discover one so near to my home, that met every week. I went along for the first time at the end of April and thoroughly enjoyed myself. The following meeting clashed with General Election night, when I planned to stay up until the wee hours and watch the results come in, so I gave The Rising Sun a miss. Yesterday, though, I returned and again had a truly wonderful evening. Most folk in the group are much more proficient uke players than I, but there's plenty of help on hand when, for instance, I can't remember how to finger B7. My biggest problem, though, is that I still have to look where my fingers are going on the fret board, whereas others seem to know it instinctively. Consequently, I often lose my place in the music, but that's all part of the learning process.

Here's a clip from a YouTube video, showing the group in action.  You won't see me as it was filmed before I joined, but I hope you will see that the emphasis is far more on having fun than achieving technical excellence.

The long night

It's going to be a long night.  Irrespective of how the polls go, I always enjoy watching the General Election results come in. And to sustain me into the wee hours of Friday, I plan to treat myself to generous amounts of wine and cheese.  

I raided Tesco this afternoon, and returned triumphant with...

• a slab of Long Clawson White Herb & Garlic cheese.  I've not tried this one before, but it looks very yummy.
• a large block of Cornish (yes Cornish!) Camembert from the Trevarrian Creamery.  Trevarrian is a few miles up the coast from where I lived for 40 years, so I'm expecting a gastronomic treat.
• a box of Scottish Oatcakes - perfect with cheese.  
• some breadsticks, lest I tire of the oatcakes (uliklely).
• a bottle of lovely, smooth Puglia, to wash it all down.

As I write, the BBC's exit pole is predicting that the Conservatives will win 316 seats, Labour 239, Lib Dems 10, Ukip 2 and the SNP a whopping 58.  If they're right then most of the opinion polls will be shown to be very wrong.  This morning, a Poll of Polls that I've been following gave the Conservatives a mere 4 seat lead over Labour.  Either way, it's going to be a fascinating night, and I don't expect to see my bed until 2.30am, at least.

As soon as there's a clear result, I'll post it here... but right now the firm favourite is the Cornish Camembert.

2.28am update: The LibDem-coloured Long Clawson has performed very well, bucking the national trend. As I call it a night, the exit poll is still looking good. The excuses offered by pollsters should be amusing to read over the next few days.