The Coffee Shop with the Brilliant Name
My other half is Not a Geologist. He cannot so much as feign an interest in things geological with the best will in the world. In spite of that, he has probably seen nearly as much geology and walked as many geology trails as most geologists have, simply because he has been out and about with me. He has trudged along the sands of the Norfolk coast in summer, he has walked the circuit of Edinburgh’s Holyrood Park on an icy winter’s day, and he has travelled into our local city centre at the crack of dawn to photograph our local geology trail without pesky passers-by passing between the camera and the current feature of interest. With the promise (and better still the reality) of a full English or Scottish breakfast, he has wandered around countless museums, trails, parks, and hillsides.
A couple of Saturdays ago, we went to Stamford, in Lincolnshire. It’s not a long trip from our adopted home city. The idea was to consume a suitable breakfast each and then to wend our way around the Stamford Stone Trail, taking particular notice of Lincolnshire Limestone – which was laid down in a warm, shallow sea during the Jurassic Period - in all its glory and variants. Stamford is where Middlemarch was filmed; if you have been there you will know that the town centre has all the Lincolnshire Limestone you could dream of.
So, suitably replete, and having briefly(!) watched the Morris dancers outside the teashop of our repast, we took in the sights and followed the trail in entirely the wrong order, having started at the last point on it because of the way we walked in from the railway station. Point 28 on the trail has some picturesque Wittering Pendle (one of the variants), by the way...
Cutting through a narrow passageway at one point, we passed a coffeeshop, canopied in Collyweston Slate (another variant) and possessed of a brilliant name: