We took a drive out into the previously undiscovered North Yorkshire town of Barnoldswick. An old school friend is a jeweller based there, and we are in the market for his-and-hers wedding rings. So off we went. The night before had been one of drunk dancing in close vicinity to excessively loud PA speakers. I was hungover and semi-deaf to the point of delirium and obsessively pointing out odd little scenes spotted by the roadside. I expect it was rather annoying, but nevertheless:
A derelict farm outhouse with holey slate roof. The crumbling walls, at the point they reached from the ground to the bottom of the sloping roof, can only have been a couple of feet high. From the ground to the top point of the gable it must have been only four or five feet. Looking down on the building from above, as though studying an architects plan, I estimate the shape of the building to be a rectangle measuring two metres by six. There is no way a person could comfortably work or move about in a building like this, and its original purpose is an utter mystery to me. Presumably it is also mysterious to the current owner and this explains it being left to ruin.
Blue shipping containers were stored stacked three high. Perched atop was a bright clean yellow Robin Reliant three-wheeled car. A loose-weave net covered the car, anchoring it to the shipping containers and preventing it from blowing away.
A colourful graffiti tag spelling out the name BOOBS. The OO contained nipples so the word looked like BOOBS! It was good; I liked it.
A pub, in between somewhere and somewhere else, called FANNY GREY. Could be named after a race horse; could be named after an elderly ladies reproductive organs... possibly the landlady. Thinking about it the pub sign, which is of a grey horse, perhaps provides the clue I need. Forget I mentioned it.
A tiny outhouse beside a countryside cottage. The door of the outhouse was open and inside could be seen shelves and shelves of suspension files stuffed full of paper. I only caught a glimpse, but saw nobody about. We should have stopped to investigate.
The inside of my eyelids.
Today my fiancee returned home from work with a likely story about seeing a motorbike with a dog in a cage balanced off the back. As she passed the bike she turned to glance at the drive who was dressed as a chicken. Double take. A chicken!