Wordsmithing: THE ROAD TO MIDDLEHAM

Thursday, 7 February 2013

THE ROAD TO MIDDLEHAM

Time and distance has been giving me headaches this week.

In my wip, the boys are making their way to Middleham.

Sadly, this beautiful castle, Middleham Castle, King Richard III’s home-in-the-north, was only being built at the time. They would have seen the first stage of development – maybe the foundations – as they were passing through and stopping off at Middleham’s market. Taking the time to admire the pictures from the English Heritage site is not good use of time but I’m happy I have an excuse to admire the images of the castle. It has to be said that the castle itself – up-close and enormous - is even more impressive.

In 1203, the roads would have been familiar to any Roman/Romano Briton who was able to travel forward in time. I know a lot more about lych ways, carthorse routes, and drover paths than is reasonable. Then there’s the problem of looking for fords and ferries. In England, the great age of stone-bridge building was during the reign of King John.

DON'T YOU HATE IT WHEN YOU FIND AN ARCHVILLAIN HAS DONE ANYTHING GOOD?

6 comments:

Anne Gallagher7 February 2013 at 23:26
What a great place. I love getting lost in English architecture. Someday I will get across the pond to see it all with my own eyes instead of via internet.
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dolorah8 February 2013 at 06:32
That's a real castle? Wow, how awesome.

......dhole
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Rosalind Adam11 February 2013 at 16:06
I've never visited that castle even though I've been totally immersed in all things Richard III recently. I must make a point of getting over to see it.

I see you've signed up for A to Z too :-)

Rosalind Adam is Writing in the Rain
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RETURN: YA Paranormal Romance

I was running late. But, it was nothing I couldn’t make up with a bit of effort. I shook my head. Confident and happy? I smiled. Increasing my stride, I pushed until the muscles in my legs burned. I kept up the pace even when the hill grew steeper.

Magpie Lane was hardly wider than a ribbon that edged the woods but that didn’t stop traffic using it to get to the motorway quicker. Large trucks and fast cars loved Magpie Lane. They sent vibrations running through me rising from the soles of my trainers. I felt the disturbance in the ground, even before the air pressure tried to knock me off balance. I hunched my shoulders as the cab hauling a container spat stones up at me.

Jogging on the spot, at the entrance to woodland, I ached to leave the road and go inside. My Mum was probably still asleep but I could hear her you-never-know-what might-be-in-there lecture buzzing on repeat inside my head. I should run safe. Not even I would argue that running through the woods on my own was the best definition of safe but I wanted to run-wild and the woodland offered me that. This early, I should be safe from axe murderers or perverts in the trees and besides, I was fast.

I jogged down the slope into the trees. From two paces in, I felt different. Freer. It felt so right. Running in the woods did great things for my style. Avoiding the roots and dodging branches forced my stride longer, I had to step higher. The woodland, The Weald, was only a sliver of ancient woodland that the developers forgot to build on but it felt like it could have been anywhere. Everywhere. At any time. The oaks and beech trees dominated the space and the skinny, silver-birches squeezed up beside them. I laughed. For a second, the woods reminded me of school and I needed to run a lot faster.

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Thursday, 7 February 2013

THE ROAD TO MIDDLEHAM

6 comments: