BLIMEY. And I was told those climbers were a laidback bunch.
It seems The Diary has caused some ire in scaling circles after referring to the Peak District as the Peaks during Tuesday’s feature on The Foundry Climbing Centre.
This, according to some of our face-ascending friends, is incorrect.
“As any climber worth his under-sized shoes knows”, I’m told by one, “only London-types and Sunday walkers call it the Peaks. To real climbers, it’s simply the Peak.”
Which is fair enough, except as any geographer worth his compass knows, there are very definitely two distinct uplands – the northern moorland Dark Peak and the southern limestone White Peak.
Therefore, plural. Keep up, you lads with the ropes.
AND more ire – this with regards Mary Queen Of Scots.
Yesterday’s Midweek Retro featured an account of the Tudor monarch’s life locked up in Sheffield but, as one outraged (and rightly so) reader noted, we failed to say how old she was when sent to the block. The answer? Just 44.
AND, as it turned out, already grey and balding.
Our man notes, and sources (ie. Wikipedia) confirm, after her beheading the axe man attempted to lift her head up to the crowd. The only problem being, when he grabbed at her bright red hair, he was left holding simply a wig. Mary’s aged pate instead went rolling along the floor.
And some people say history is boring.
“THANKS for the £750 suit sir... any chance you can make it an Xbox 360 next time?”
SOMETIMES you read a little snippet of news and it makes you proud to be British, doesn’t it?
To wit: Ralph Knutt in Tuesday’s Star, the Chapeltown chap who goes out almost every day picking litter – dressed in a shirt and tie. He’s just received the chairman’s award from Ecclesfield Parish Council, and quite right too.
Some people have called him eccentric. Surely ‘local legend’ is nearer the mark.