Our regular Thursday walk was a very pleasant 6-mile ramble in the Thixendale area, with seven sociable companions.

Tea was rather rushed, as we were planning to join another party for a 6-mile walk in Raincliffe Woods and thereabouts.

However, when I quickly checked the diary to remind myself which car park was the start point, I saw that I'd got it wtong - this week, the venue was Station Lane, Cloughton.

So off we went, arriving ten minutes early.  Twenty minutes later, there was no sign of anyone else, so we set off ourselves, doign an easy four miles along the railway line and cliffs.

When we returned home, I checked my diary again, and found I had still been a week ahead - we should have been at Langdale End Bridge.

Ah well, Cloughton next week, Raincliffe Woods the week after.

We're now preparing for tomorrow, when we set off for Ingleton.  We plan to walk up Whernside in the afternoon, before checking in to our B&B.  On Sunday, we join one of the organised walks over the Ribblehead Viaduct, which has been closed for the day for maintenance.

I learned a couple of years ago that there was no need to pay extortionate prices for the bits of wire and plastic that are displayed on opticians' shelves.

There are half a dozen internet firms that will sell perfectly good prescription glasses for £20 a shot.

As I am forever losing my reading glasses (one pair that had been missing for three months was eventually discovered in the freezer) this allowed me to have several pairs, kept in strategic places.

One firm called Glasses Direct will send five frames (which you choose from illustrations on the website) on approval, if you bung them a fiver, promising to knowck the deposit off the final price of any glasses that you buy.

I decided to try this apparently foolproof offer a few weeks ago, chose the frames I wanted, posted the samples back, and called to order my new glasses.

It then transpired that by taking up the offer of trial frames, I was not allowed to claim a £5 money-off deal that they were advertising.

I made a row about this swizz, and Glasses Direct relented, gave me the discount, and posted some excellent glasses to me.

Three weeks later, I discovered that one of the lenses had dropped out because a screw had disappeared from the frames.

There was no sign of the screw, so yesterday I went into Specsavers in Westborough, confessed that I had not bought the glasses from them, and said I would gladly pay if they would fix them.

The folk in there couldn't have been nicer to me if I had been their most valued customer.  A charming young lady passed my glasses to a colleague and invited me to sit down while they were repaired.

The chap who fixed them handed them back to me with a smile and said:  "There we are. No charge."

I told him, as I had told the young lady, that I had bought the glasses elsewhere and that I felt I should pay, so he pointed towards their charity boxes, and I made a suitable contribution.

I noticed while I was in the shop that Specsavers' own glasses start at £25, so I think that next time I need a pair, I will certainly check them out.

While we're in the area, West Street between Esplanade Gardens and Ramshill Road seems to be becoming a contender for the title of Scruffiest Residential Street In Scarborough.

The Breece has become a complete disgrace since it was abandoned as a social services holiday home.  I thought it had been bought by the university to use as students' accommodation, but I don't believe the uni would tolerate a property in their ownership being so neglected.

There is always litter strewn about the forecourt, and usually a bucket of booze bottles on display outside.  The whole place is an utter tip.

Opposite The Southlands Hotel, it will soon be impossible to walk on the pavement, as the owners of the building on the corner of PoW Terrace have allowed a hedge to run rampant.

The electricity sub-station in West Street seems to get attention from the power company only once a year, so the scruffy shrub in the forecourt is again spilling over the pavement, and litter remains uncleared.

The resurfacing carried out after traffic lights were installed at the West Street/PoW Terrace junction is a disgrace.  The new tarmac is cracked , crumbling and subsiding.  Don't the highways authorities check that the work has been carried out satusfactorily before they pay the contractors?  Someone is trousering public funds for one of the most appallingly inept jobs of work I have ever seen.

At least the local boozers have reason to be happy.  The picnic benches provided from National Lottery funds often attract these gentlemen with their bottles as early as 8am.  What an unhappy sight for the mothers and infants who wait for the bus in West Street.

Nice to read the story in T'News that work is to start on 26 PoW Terrace, which is highlighted below.

I emailed a copy of this blog and the photos to T'News and the borough council.  "Customer First" sent me an email to say it had been passed to building control, but I didn't hear a dicky bird from T'News.

It's OK, I wasn't looking for a fee - I know that comment is free, but facts are expensive if you have to pay for them.  An email would have been nice, though.

However, no one seems to be answering the obvious question: If the owners can get the work done now, why couldn't they have done it months or years ago?

Are they being fined for every day that the heap of metal has been needlessly obstructing the footpath?

If not, why not?

Come on, let's have our ace news hounds twisting a few tails.  That's what makes journalism fun, chaps.

I think the attached photographs show one of the most disgraceful sights on the South Cliff.

Scaffolding was erected outside this building in Prince of Wales Terrace several months ago, and it has stayed there ever since, with no sign of any work being done.

Weeds are growing through the pavement.  Even worse, when a vehicle parks next to the scaffolding, people have to walk into the middle of the road to pass.  I have even seen a blind man with a white stick having to do this.

There is clearly no need for the pavement to be obstructed, as two doors away, higher scaffolding has been erected entirely within the boundaries of the property.

Four weeks ago, I telephoned the Town Hall to complain, and was told that the Building Control Office had already been notified, and that it was being investigated.

Still nothing has been done.

Is a permit not required to obstruct the pavement, as would be the case if someone wanted to place a skip on the highway?

If so, why has a permit been issued, as the neighbour's more public-spirited conduct has demonstrated that the obstruction is not necessary?

If no permit has been issued, are the scaffolding company and the landowner being heavily fined for each day that the obstruction remains in place?  I would certainly incur penalties if I obstructed the street with my car or junk.  Imposing charges that hurt is the only way to stop other irresponsible companies and individuals from this sort of behaviour.

Finally, what has Scarborough Borough Council been doing while this disgraceful situation has been inconveniencing and endangering local residents?

We've been spending some time exploring Raincliffe Woods, which run between Throxenby Mere and Forge Valley.  (My wife Maureen is pictured emerging into the sunlight from one of the paths.)

A couple of weeks ago, we followed one of the trails waymarked by the woods' friends group - at least, we started following it, but we missed one of the markers, and walked rather further than intended.

There are two walks of about three to four miles, for which the guide suggests allowing a couple of hours.  We found that even with a couple of stops for a lunchtime sandwich and a chat, that's a very generous allowance.

Our latest waymarked walked was a figure-of-eight, which included a couple of steep climbs, including the one from Green Gate car park to the rim of Forge Valley.

Our only concern when we're out in this area stems from the risk of leaving our car unattended in a lonely car park, but there's no easy solution.

During the first mile or so, we encountered quite a few dog walkers, but from that point, we had the woods to ourselves.

It's a marvellous time of year to be in the woodland.  Two months ago, we were walking in Canadian forest, following local advice to whistle, sing or chat loudly, to warn any hungry bears of our presence.  In Raincliffe, however, rustling in the undergrowth was a cause for interest, rather than alarm, but we never did spot any of many creatures we disturbed.

Had these woods been on my doorstep when I was a boy, I would have spent much of the school summer holidays there, building dens, and playing adventurous games with friends.  I would have been nagging my parents constantly until three or four of us were given permission to sleep out, under a home-made shelter.

What on earth do youngsters do nowadays to let off energy and develop their senses of adventure and imagination?

In any event, Raincliffe Woods will certainly be on my schedule for future walks.
 

What a wonderfully rich week we've just had.

Monday (21st) evening was spent on an excellent walk around South Cliff sites, organised by Scarborough Archaeological Society.

We saw the work of the celebrated borough surveyor, Harry Smith, who was responsible for  the first Town Hall extension (not the appalling 60s-style ones that vies with the purple-fronted amusement arcade to be the most offensive feature of the twonscape viewed from the beach).

He also laid out St Nicholas Gardens, was responsible for widening The Esplanade, , for the development of South Cliff Gardens and the construction of the outdoor pool.

On Tuesday, we attended a concert by a German chamber orchestra in St Martin's.

Wednesday afternoon saw us at the Stephen Joseph Theatre for  a cream tea in the restaurant, where Alan Ayckbourn and director Richard Derrington were interviewed.  For the second successive event that we have attended in the restaurant, we sat next to Heather (Lady)  Ayckbourn.  The poor lady really deserves better company than I can offer.

On Thursday, we finally managed to see Life and Beth at the SJT - the most accessible of the trio of plays in the Things That Go Bump season.  We'd been due to see it a week earlier, but a family crisis meant that our seats were unfilled.

Friday should have seen Maureen attending the reading group at Scalby Library, but when she arrived, she discovered it had been postponed for a week.  M isn't having much luck with reading groups.  She tried to join the one at Scarborough Library, but was told she couldn't attend, as they already had too many members.  The ladies at Scalby, however, proved to be very friendly and welcoming.

Saturday saw us eating out at Tuscany Too on Ramshill Road.  The food, as on the previous occasion we dined there, was excellent, but I did object to them trying to seat me nextto the serving hatch, where I would have the kitchen clatter in my ear, and where the waiters would be forever brushing against me.  However, the waitress helped me to move the table and my chair without any drama.

Mrs H and I went to a blood donor session this evening, and I'm pleased to say that it was less dramatic than my last one.

I always had a phobia for needles, so when my daughter (then 18) came home one day with a proud expression on her face and said she'd given blood, I was on the spot.

I said nothing to anyone, but I went to the next session on my own, and after a tense hour  or so, was relieved to find that I'd emerged with an empty arm (as Tony Hancock suggested) but without having had a heart attack.

That was 22 sessions ago, and I'm a [i]little[/i] more relaxed about the experience now.  Just a little.

Five months ago, I went to my 21st session on my own, as Mrs H and I had got out of sync.

After emptying my arm, I couldn't be bothered to follow the standard advice and sit around for a few minutes, to ensure that all was well.

I put my jacket on, jumped in the car and set off home.

Half way back, I became conscious of the fact that my sleeve was rather wet.

At home, we discovered that my entire left side was drenched with blood.  I have honestly never seen so much blood in my life.

I clutched what I thought was the puncture site and held my arm in the air, but there was so much blood that we couldn't tell if
 I was doing any good, so Mrs H decided to call the paramedics.

They took over very efficiently and sorted me out.

When we went to tonight's session, my summons was marked with the discreet message:  "Review arm procedures," as a result of which I had a very polite and friendly lecture.

Believe me, I've learned my lesson!