23rd July. Strangely At Home In Ellerton Gravel Pit.

It came as some surprise to find just about everyone in the village of Fartington-On-Tees was a Triathlete. 

This was a mere coincidence, you understand, as my reason for traveling to this sparsely populated and little visited area of the north of England was connected with chimneys and money.

The farmer that owned the gravel pit sat with his wife in a Toyota Hilux as a cool breeze whipped across the waters greying in the evening light.

He rolled down the window to accept a £1 from each daft person.

"I bet they think we're all mental" I suggest.

Of course in a borrowed wetsuit, swimming was almost pleasant. 

I'll probably wonder where I was, who I was, or whether I just dreamt this, in a couple of years, I mused.

Strange to feel at home in a place you've never even been?

The North of England follows a parochial binary system similar to the Scottish/English mindset - ie (Non-Wanker/Wanker).

Here the distinction is North/South.

Due to speech I can be pigeon-holed as broadly somewhere from the North of England rather than South. A change from the usual "You're not from these parts are you?" despite 38 years north of the border.