Reading? or Walking? Oh, OK then . . .

Oooohhh look what was delivered today, just in time to stop my withdrawal symptoms after finishing the 4th Poldark novel, "Warleggan", this morning.

There are 3 more in transit, but I think I have enough to be going on with in the meantime.

The funny thing is that when I finished reading "Warleggan", I felt as though Winston Graham had ended the Poldark series there, as he had neatly tied up most of the loose ends - it was almost a case of everyone 'living happily ever after'.
There were a few little niggles, though . . .
So how surprised was I when I picked up the 5th one "The Black Moon" to find an Author's Note in which he says that he had indeed only written 4 Poldark books and it was many years later, when his writing style had changed and he had written many more books on different subjects, that he started to wonder himself what might have happened to the Poldark and Warleggan families after that final novel.  And so he started to write "The Black Moon" to continue the Poldark saga.  He explains that it was difficult to re-learn the style of writing he had used all those years ago. But, by George, he did it! They are seamless.

Now enticing though they were, especially after reading a couple of chapters, I had to make a choice; on the one hand a pile of books calling to me and on the other a big, fed-up dog wanting to get out and go walking and exploring.
Yes, the dog won; I couldn't resist those eyes (or the constant whimpering!)

We followed the track of the old wagon route which brought the granite down from the Cheesewring quarries high on the Moor, some of which was used in building Tower Bridge in London.

There are fantastic panoramic views as you climb steadily higher - although it wasn't as clear as on a sunny day.

Finally, this was as close as we got to the famous Cheesewring rock formation, which gives its name to the quarry, also the the Cheesewring Inn in the village of Minions where we started our walk.  The path continued, but we didn't . . . because part of the path had fallen into some old mine workings and had been covered temporarily by a large sheet of zinc that Zac refused to even step on.  I had to agree with him; it really didn't seem that safe, so we turned back, but found a different route down.

This was also a well-trodden path, human feet as well as cattle, ponies and sheep and dotted with huge chunks of granite which were handy as a seat for me and shade for Zac.

It was good to get out - we had to dodge a few sharp showers - but now I can read with a clear conscience.