The Bridge At Ingham

Come Friday and I was a man on a mission: namely to get some living done.

Once again my friends at BBC weather were spot on, because my arrival at Ingham church coincided with glorious sunshine. Oddly the car park next door was rammed. This was quickly explained when I realised the adjacent building was the Ingham Swan and that it was pints and not the pulpit that was attracting customers.

Dismissing thoughts of cool beer in a dark, pub lounge, I followed the path through the pretty graveyard. All around me spring was busting out, but all I could think was - what a lovely day for a burial. Macabre thoughts indeed.

Next up, it was straight across the field, along a path forged by some thoughtful, tank-driving farmer: then out onto a lane and past a notice advertising "Quiz & Chips" at the village hall. Shame I was busy that evening.

Now with Sue otherwise engaged, there was always a good chance today of a cock up on the orienteering front. So far it had been nay bother. But now I was facing my first problem: to make further progress, I had to find the bridge indicated on the map. Nothing. Ten minutes and a lot of zig-zagging later, I finally found the "bridge." Four steps was sufficient to cross it.

Finally after further bridges, banks, ditches and dykes, I spied Ingham church in the distance. Like some returning crusader, I was fully able to appreciate what a welcoming site this must have been for travellers in former times. 

Finally as I drove off, it was with raised spirits. Mission accomplished.