30 Pictures 30 Stories Challenge - Day 9 - Spring has Sprung?

I was inspired by thisismylife's recent blogging challenge on @liketu, 'The 30 Pictures 30 Stories Challenge'.

They were originally inspired by rubencress '30 day not-so ordinary ordinary items challenge' and both challenges are a great way to encourage daily posting on hive.

This challenge is pretty open-ended; please feel free to follow my formula, or thisismylife's or rubencress' challenge structures listed in their posts linked above 🔼

The only stipulations are that you post one picture a day with a personal story attached to it for 30 days.

Write your story/anecdote to the best of your ability, and use the tag #30stories and/or the #notsoordinary tag if you're following rubencress' challenge. It is also advised to use the #challenge tag.

As I am a professional writer outside of hive blockchain, and as I only dabble as an amateur photographer, I thought I would follow thisismylife's challenge format to tell some stories and anecdotes about my strange life.

In answer to the question posed in the title, nope spring has most definitely not sprung in the North of the UK.

It feels as chilly as a polar bear's knackers, or perhaps as icy as a penguin's bunghole, or maybe as freezing as a beluga whales willy... add any other cold-related analogy you like and you'd be hitting the nail on the head.

Unless you live in the North of Canada, or Alaska, or one of the Nordic countries, in which case you're probably laughing into your coffee right now, saying...

"7°C (44.6°F for our American friends) that's the temperature when I ditch my swimsuit, do some Wim Hof breathing and jump into a freezing lake as naked as the day I was born."

Okay, fair enough, you guys are as hard as nails.

Whatever the case may be, I have to admit that the photo attached to the memory I'm about to share was taken last year near the beginning of April, if memory serves.

It was a bright and sunny morn, and I had donned my lycra cycling gear and wrap-around shades (a bold, and I feel, courageous fashion ensemble) to set off on the 13 mile trip to the National Trust managed Tudor manor Speke Hall.

I believe that it is the God-given right of any self-respecting Scouser to find a way to jump a wall somewhere to access the abode of the former lorded gentry who probably diddled one of my long-lost relatives beneath the stairwell three hundred years ago.

Upon arriving, I realised that Speke Hall was ludicrously easy to get into without paying the insane £10 cost just to enter the grounds. So I did my pink panther act...

... then lifted my bike over the 4-foot iron gate that separated me from this wonder of Tudor architecture, and I was away. Torch-toting security guards non the wiser, whizzing down the old main entrance to the hall to pull a 1980s skid across the gravel front of the property before pulling now well-lodged lycra from various crevices.

I locked my bike in a secluded spot and wandered the grounds, somewhat conspicuous in my day-glow lycra shorts and t-shirt.

The birds were tweeting (mainly about the nanobot mind control that was a surety from getting the Pfizer vaccine) and the flowers were blooming... marvellous.

I took a few pictures but forgot about my camera for most of that trip as it was just too nice a day, and as the song says, spring had truly sprung.

I spent the rest of that slightly naughty wall-jumped trip sunbathing and generally posing in my lycra for the squirrels, who seemed quite interested as they industriously dug up winter stashes of nuts.

Thanks for reading 🌿

All photos and media design used in this post are my own, or used with the permission of the designer.
Gifs are ethically sourced from giphy.com
YouTube music is shared for illustrative purposes.
Camera used: Samsung S7 Smart Phone.

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