We all have to work somewhere....

The consultancy firm I now work for, have their HQ in the Broughton Hall Business Park, just outside Skipton. Unlike most work-related parks that have fancy names because they were built on top of historic structure (such as the Victoria Park Shopping centre, built on the Victoria Park, or the Castle Business Park in Stirling which is merely in sight of the Castle), we really are housed in the Hall's South Barn. It's rather clever really: the upkeep of Broughton Hall (the fabulous stately home of the Tempest family) must cost a bit so Mr Tempest rents out his outbuildings, barns, orangery and courtyard to a moderate list of small and medium-sized businesses (including the Dalesman magazine, local radio station Fresh FM, and some funky BBQ provider next door). In return we get an amazing place to work.

JBA occupy one of the larger properties in the estate, the South Barn, which is distinguished by its blue-faced clock on the end wall facing the car park. With 5 or so open plan rooms, each seating 15 of so budding flood experts, a kitchen, a couple of meeting rooms and a room full of high-powered computers, it has pretty much everything the company needs. My room is at the top of the barn with high ceilings, exposed wooden beams and a few token exposed wall features. Outside, there are fields with sheep, birds of prey, an old railway, a river, a tennis court and outdoor pool, secret gardens and the large manicured wall gardens (including a fancy, modern glass sided cafe within the garden for visitors). So when I sit reading my book over lunch between the immaculately rounded evergreen trees and bushes, overlooking the glass domed roof of the Hall's rear glass house and listening to the 1pm chime from the bell tower, it is easy to become immersed in Jane Austin's Emma and imagine that Broughton is instead Highbury. 

It definitely beats London! 

Howling Wolf

High up, on one of the many rocky outcrops that run along the edge of the Wharfe valley between Addingham and Ilkley, crouches a howling wolf. 

Photo borrowed from the Ilkely Gazette website: 

Legend (in the form of the Ilkely Gazette) has it that he just appeared one day with no owner, no one to take credit for their masterpiece and not even a fresh footprint in the peat. One can only conclude that he was either deposited by a helicopter with a precision aim, or that perhaps he's a ghost, frozen on the edge of the crag as the wind changed direction? His positioning close to the edge of the forest on the mysterious Rombald's Moor; home of many a Yorkshire fable including magical creatures, witches, ghosts and giants does indeed support this theory. As does the fact that wolves once roamed this area? I discovered him on a run, so I only managed to capture him on my phone (with dreadful reflection on the screen) but vow to return to the crag on a summers evening with my DSLR to take some better ones!

Racing Yorkshire Style

Last night, I decided to truly embrace the Yorkshire running ways, donned my Bingley vest and tackled the Beamsley Beacon 5.5mile fell race. Having been told about the "lovely walk" and "stunning views" from a work colleague last week and hearing a group of Doss running friends were planning on racing, I threw caution to the westerly breeze and heavy rain showers and rocked up in Addingham for my fell running debut (I discount the Peel Hill Race in the Isle of Man since you can wear flats and it is always sunny!). I wouldn't say I was nervous (couldn't get more low key) but I was apprehensive about the task that loomed before me - after all, I am accustomed to bouncing around a track and running races lasting less than 10mins - this was going to be a new experience.

Having memorised the verbal description of the best route to descend (any permissible route was allowed) I revealed my rather short, fashionable, track-running, hot-pant shorts and tried desperately to hide my amateurish shoes which only loosely resemble trail shoes. Which makes me wonder - why is it acceptable for fell runners to spend lots of money on the latest Inov8 or Salomon fell shoes, but if their kit doesn't contain an array of holes, each of which tell an epic near-death fell running tale, then it is simply not worthy?

A group assembled outside the pub with an average age of about 50 and an average build that could be described as knackered and scrawny, we set off at the usual alarming pace (it is only ever tactical track races that runners set off slowly!). After a mile on tarmac and a mile of gradual accent up the edge of a wood, things started to get tough - the moor opened out, the gradient steepened and the beacon emerged above. I made it until about 2mins from the summit before admitting defeat and taking a cheeky (power) walk. From the summit, I took a split second glance of the view and began my descent. 

Here is the view I would have enjoyed if not racing!

Having proudly reached the top in 12th place, and just behind Shane (who I thought would be a useful person to follow as he had provided me with the description of the complex route down), I suddenly found myself in a lot of trouble. Aside from the fact that my calves had turned into dried out rubber bands ready to snap clean, I discovered I had something that no-one else around possessed - a genuine concept of consequence! If I fall over on one of these rocks now, it will (a) hurt, (b) ruin the rest of my summer track season, and (c) be somewhat embarrassing. Plus, I had the comfort of not seeing any other women nearby (yes, I did have a good scan behind me during my momentary walk up)  - although there was always the risk of a good female descender. Despite losing sight of the many men I passed the summit with, and a whole load who had since overtaking me, I was fortunate enough to be steered into the "ginnel section" by a nice man (who no doubt reached the summit a good minute after me). He then made the error of being a gentleman and letting me enter it before him, only to be stuck behind me along its entirety - although I no doubt took the full force of the nettles and thistles that lined its narrow, steep and rocky sides - perhaps this is the reason why all fell runners are skinny?

Shortly after the ginnel, we re-entered civilisation and I was pleasingly cheered on by Sel, who had wandered out to watch. I also managed to regain a few places that I had lost on the downhill - showing my speed off in a lovely striding sprint finish back to the pub!

I won the women's race in 41 something, a few minutes ahead of the next lady (who I suspect also has a sense of consequence) and was rewarded with some booze for my efforts!

Today, I can hardly walk! 

The Peacock

On the first day of my new job, at JBA (flood consultants), at Broughton Hall Business Park, with moderate levels of nerves/excitement/apprehension, I met the Peacock. Unofficially named Percy, he was standing just around the bend, in the middle of the single track road, in full feathered display! Thankfully, I was driving at a dribble and was able to stop and navigate around him with a bit of persuasion.

In the days that followed, I have heard Percy more than I have seen him. And oh boy, he is a noisy little bird - shrieking and squawking. This is particularly disturbing when having an outdoor meeting (well it was nice and sunny) about event sets, probability distributions etc and he joins in! But anyhow, I have also been warned to "avoid" "run-away" and "do not touch" as apparently he is a vicious little bugger.

This aggressive streak my help explain his appearance on the Broughton Hall estate a couple of years back. Whilst he blends in with the Manor, walled garden, game keepers etc, he comes from a previous owner. Caught on CCTV, a white van turned up in the dead of night, opened its back doors and pushed poor Percy out before scarpering off!

Well, I quite like him and look forward to taking his photo in the not too distant future!

Busy in Yorkshire

It is a reflection of how busy I have been over the past 10-days or so that this is my first blog post since I packed up (some of) my things and moved in with my Auntie in Yorkshire. This is the view from my new temporary home, and although it is now dusk, is the same view that I can see out of the window just behind my computer screen....lovely!

Since my Aunt's internet connection is rather in the dark ages, I will have to limit my photos on here but I will add some to Flickr (also when I get a moment)..... Emma's Flickr Photos

With so many new sites, sounds and experiences to write about, I don't really know where to begin. Perhaps a list of stuff would suffice and hopefully over the coming weeks, months, years here in Yorkshire, I will write a piece on them all:
The Broughton Hall Peacock
Peaceful lunchtimes
Morning 2-mile jogs (the furthest without excessive elevation gain/drop)
Hardistys Farm
Work - tea consumption; birthday cake, learning the ropes, nice new work colleagues, the deep end!
Friday bacon butties
Rubbish weather in June
Knackered running legs
The Hobbit on audiobook
Missing James
South Barn (my new work place)
Timesheets / clients / exciting projects
Our impending move to Cononley
Sel, Frenchie and The Fleece
The River Wharfe......Bolton Abbey
New running routes that feel really long
Cancelled BMC
Hadrians Wall Fell Race and
There is so much more to Ilkely Moor than the Cow and the Calf!

Bistro 21, Aykley Heads, Durham

This is a restaurant that I have always wanted to go to, but until last night, have never been. With precious few days left until I depart to Yorkshire, we decided that it was now or never so booked ourselves in for the three course, early evening menu (so that we could also go to the Duke of Wellie Quiz after).

Bistro 21 is part of Terry Laybourne's group of NE restaurants, of which we have previously dined at Cafe 21 on Newcastle Quayside. Sandwiched between the Police HQ, Hospital and County Hall, this little Mediterranean/French Bistro is somewhat out of place. Upon entering, you almost forget that you are in Durham (apart from the strong local accent of the customers) with its wine/beer cellar bar and rustic, country-living dining room (the restaurant occupies a 300-year old farmhouse). It was a lovely, relaxing ambience and by no means pretentious!

The locally sourced and seasonal food was delicious and beautifully presented. Although there were a few things James and I would have changed, it was great value for money, interesting and tasty, and importantly for two runners who had just run 9miles, sufficiently filling! The creme brulee  I had for pudding was particularly special and not something I would normally go for!