Unusually for a Friday Walk Sarah was able to come on this one, a brief gap in her funeral work occurring on a Friday for once. So, having access to the car that Sarah’s usually out in, we headed for the Wirral coastline to see how it’s been coping with the recent storms and extreme high tides, which even our slippery Tory leader now accepts are something to do with global climate change.
We’ll get to the high tides in a bit, but first we head inland.
This is Station Road in Thurstaston, so called as it used to lead to a railway station, long gone. It’s also evidence of land enclosure, the greedy 17th to 19th century rich drawing straight lines on maps and saying ‘This bit can be mine and that bit’s yours.’ They did it all over Africa too, you can see by the borders on maps.
At this time of year the mile long hedges are almost empty.
A few hawthorn berries left.
And black bryony berries. Poisonous to us and not too popular with birds either by the looks of things.
Yes I know, the flowers that are white, the berries are red and it’s called ‘black’. I didn’t make this nomenclature thing up. Continue reading