A spin out to Salts Mill for a surprisingly good pizza, some art, and a spot of retail therapy. Jen came away with a cookery book, and I bought a biography of Oswald of Northumbria, from the time the killjoys insist we should no longer refer to as the Dark Ages.
The main road over the Moor was shut, so we had to take a convoluted route there and back. As we reached the top of my favourite new long-cut at Wainstalls, a lone swallow flopped over a wall heading south. It was the first swallow I’d seen since we got back from Anglesey. I wonder if it will be the last of the summer.
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