Four lane ends
High on the moors four lanes come together. Nearby a neglected farm seems to be sinking back into the moor. A Manor House has its doors locked and barred and stone flags missing from the roof. A small church seemed to have fared little better, its linch gate hangs from one hinge.
Almost bent double and battling to make headway against the niddering wind appeared a individual dressed in threadbare clothes. Appearing intoxicated after taking a few steps forward the man collapsed in an untidy heap. Patrick was home with his blood stained face and blooded knuckles.
This Post Has 38 Comments
Dear Michael,
I liked the “niddering wind.” I think it describes the wind here as I write.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thank you Rochelle, if the wind is niddering, there is little better than pen and paper and a warming drink.
Wonderful images and vocabulary, Michael
Thank you Neil, I have just spent time with my grandson [15] discussing reading and vocabulary.
An evocative take that begs the question – where was he coming home from? Good stuff.
Thank you so much Iain.
Just another Friday night in Megavissey, Michael?
I feel the Lake District calling today; perhaps it is time for a little Wordsworth and Ruskin. The landscape of Devon and Cornwall will have to wait. But then Scotland is also calling to me… perhaps it is time for a gipsy caravan, but it will have to have a wood burning stove and a supply of Whiskey
An intriguing tale of a character that’s I’m guessing is very much down on his luck.
Here’s my tale!
Hi Keith, he has won a boxing match, unfortunately he spent all his winnings at a hostelry.
Ohhh, I felt that one down deep. Great writing.
What a great comment, thank you so much.
Richly vivid and intriguing story – I had to look up ‘niddering’!
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
Thank you so much Susan. Niddering for me means a evil and cold wind that finds its way into every gap.
Great descriptions conjuring up the harshness of life on the high moor, and they tell us such a lot about Patrick. Like everybody else, I loved ‘niddering wind’. I was also impressed by the conciseness with which you told us he’d been drinking and fighting.
Thank you so very much Penny, I really do appreciate your feedback… Giving good written feedback is something I have never been good at, which saddens me.
It sounds like he’s had a really bad day.
His day started of ok, till the whiskey arrived. His home hamlet of Tawthorpe is suffering much worse.
I had to look up “niddering,” and seems to mean “cowardly, weak.” So was it just a pesky little wind? Anyway, I love the word and in my own mind I translated it to “bothersome,” And what a bleak picture of poor Patrick, not much of a future. Lots of pathos in this story, Michael.
Thank you Linda, for me niddering mean evil and cold, a wind which finds every gap in clothing etc. Patrick has arrived back at his birth place to find the hamlet in a worse condition than himself !
I suspected the word had a different meaning from what I found online. Many of the comments made it clear that they think of it they same way you do, and it makes lots more sense for your story.
You did an excellent job of describing both the hamlet and poor Patrick. Visual writing.
I suspect before the time of radio and mass produced books, such terms varied widely. I can recall it being so even from one village to another.
Excellent descriptions, Michael. Loved the “niddersome”.
Thank you Dale, I condensed and altered a story that I started a couple of years back. For me niddering means a cold and evil wind that finds every gap in clothing.
Nice description of a desolate location. It is good drunk Patrick returned home all drunk and bloodied.
He will have a shock when he recovers as his home hamlet is in a worse condition than him. I hope that he will recover and work to improve things
Great imagery, sounds very desolate.
Desolate is a great choice of word… however when the sun shines the area surrounding this hamlet can be beautiful. When I wrote this piece I had a moment in time just at the end of 1918, when the hamlet had lost most of its men. Hopefully Patrick will sober up and put things to right
it sounds like the beginning of a novel. haunting and evocative. well done.
Thank you so much Plaridel
They don’t call it the demon alcohol for nothing. Sorrowful situation that may be reaching a conclusion soon.
In my mind Patrick will rise to the challenge and things will improve. But sadly I have known others for whom alcohol is a disaster
I think I’ve been to the place where the four lanes meet – lovely writing. I also liked the niddering wind – very Cornish.
Over the years I occasionally come across such places, including in Cornwall. It usually takes a strong individual to turn things around.
Its been said before but that Niddering wind!! Love it!!
I am happy that you said it again, it is appreciated
Intriguing. It looks like Patrick has some soul searching to do.
He certainly has,