Today I struggled into Barnsley. I spent 4 hours editing then thought “fuck it” and went geocaching instead.
Managed to find 1 cache out of the 4 I looked for today.
The first cache I couldn’t find, my GPS is only accurate to 4 decimal places so when you get within 6ft of the location the radar thing goes all wobbly. Regardless, it said something about being “East of the cross”. Well I found the cross, it was in a peaceful and hidden garden in the centre of Barnsley. I didn’t even know it was there and I must have walked past this garden a million times. Anyway, I poked about in the undergrowth aware that anyone coming into the hidden garden would obviously think I was billzy or some other weirdo that mooches about in bushes. Fortunately nobody did come in. I still didn’t find the cache though.
Second cache took me to the far side of tarn. I’ve not been over that side before as it looks too much like those poor areas you see in British socio-realistic movies of the 1950’s, you know, back to back houses, washing on lines across the road and fat laundry women with their hair in rollers moaning about the price of fish while waiting for their husbands to come back from the pit (and not the pit of the Quatermass variety). In the centre of this time oasis, amidst the Morris Oxfords, mangles and Jubilee banners there is a square raised up from the rest of the surroundings. Apparently this square was once a church that was demolished in the early 90’s and in the square are several graves. So I mooched about the graves in this area desperately trying not to draw attention to myself. Signed the slip and legged it.
The third cache took me to yet another part of Barnsley I’d never been before, despite it being less than 500 yards from my University. This area was overlooked by one of those horrible office blocks with the big windows. You know, the type where all the staff are sat side onto the windows so they can spend the day gawping out at the scroungers and poor students who mill about outside while wistfully dreaming of a life free from the constraints of the office photocopier or pretending to work while looking at Arsebook. It was also overlooked by a construction site populated by lots of smoking burly meat heads in hard hats. I felt too self conscious mooching about there so I left it.
Fourth site is now a car park. So I gave up. Came home.
My journey home was conducted by the cheeriest bus driver I have ever known. It must have been his first day or something. It is a British Statute that all bus drivers should be surly and gruff*. He let me off the 10p extra I would have had to pay for travelling the two stops further from the fare zone.
My last chore of the day was to pick up the wife’s prescription from the doctors after dropping off my own prescription renewal form. While there I overheard one of the village gossips gossiping with the pharmacist. I was going to write an entry about that. But I thought my adventures in geocaching would make for a much more boring entry and you know what…as it’s you…I won’t even add a ljcut. 🙂
* = Bus Driving Act 1977 Section 5 subsection 3