A path meets a road. A merging, a point of arrival or departure. What could be more simple? Nature and evolution create the seamless junction of arm and shoulder, of branch and trunk, of fin to fishy form. Tributaries merge into rivers, rivers join the sea.
By the elegant standards set by natural forms this path entrance near the Alsager tip must surely rank as a massive failure.
Six signs to read as one turns into the path! At least the Department of Naming Meadows has managed to choose the same size wooden board as the Department of Promoting the Name of the Council, although they didn’t quite manage to get the same size lettering. Perhaps the Director of Font Calibration was on leave. Unfortunately the Department of Dog Poo bags has no liaison whatsoever with the Department of Red Boxes. The Department of Fences and Gates has clearly been working overtime to meet their targets!
This cluttered start leads to a short but pleasant path with branches off to a pond:
Beyond the pond the path joins the Salt Line, where I was struck by the large number of dog-walkers and twigs, the latter presenting the greatest threat as last week I had a twig-induced puncture.
I have to admit I felt a bit of an idiot as I cycled along trying to dodge the twigs. And the dogs, and the dog’s owners. And the signs. Sometimes I long for the city!