Filth and danger

 

After a two-week break, my return to adventuring saw me and my idiot brother go in search of Gullet Quarry. Luckily for me, Max wasn't sure he was actually covered by his insurance to drive my motor, so his incompetence didn't make it anywhere near the steering wheel.

Located amongst the Malvern Hills, the quarry is very much like all disused quarries, and consists of rocks and water. It is also highly dangerous, with the local rag claiming it poses not a single, not a double, but a triple death threat. The highest level of death threat available. 

Ensuring we were vigilant, we proceeded with caution on our walk around the quarry. Max had made the mistake, yet again, of coming unsuitably attired for our adventure, and whinged like a little girl the whole way about his best shoes getting muddy. The man truly is a fool. 

We scaled the cliff face by way of a filth laden, barely there path, accompanied by Max's incessant whining about his bloody shoes, and eventually emerged at the summit to incredible views. With both of us having little to no interest in continuing our walk along the Malvern Hills, we found a more suitable path back to the motor.

From here, we thought it would be vaguely interesting to explore some of the roads neither of us had traversed before, starting with an offshoot just past the viaduct, outside of Ledbury. The road was underwhelming at best, although Max seemed to enjoy it. We did, however, happen upon a couple of abandoned buildings, which are always fun to explore, the first of which was very reminiscent of Max's house. 

I was eager to enter the house and explore. However, Max said he feared for our safety, so we moved on to the building next door. This one was an old chapel, which had seen better days and clearly wasn't being used to worship anything. We were, however, able to enter this building without fear of death, although there was very little to see inside. 

With nothing else to do, we headed back to the motor and continued on our journey home, stopping at Castle Frome Church, a pretty little church we were unable to gain access due to Covid. However, the sign on the door assured us they were working hard to find a way to safely re-open, which Max took to mean the Vicar was working in the cellar on a cure for the disease. Twat (Max, not the Vicar).

With our adventure clearly over, and being the second most boring trip to date, we called it a day. I am conscious that my posts are getting more and more boring, for which I hold Max fully responsible, due to his reluctance to travel out of the County; along with his aversion to walking on a Sunday. I will endeavour to drag him further afield for our next foray into the unknown, and hopefully regale you with tales of his stupidity, along with top tips of interesting places to explore. 

 

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