: The Number of the Beast
21st November 2019
him that hath understanding
count the number of the beast:
for it is the number of a man;
and his number is six hundred
threescore and six.
quote was the start to a silly
challenge that I put to Martin
and Tony as we set off walking
from Ings. Our objective
was Sour Howes but it was quite
a long trail before we could
get off the hard surface and
onto the fells. I needed
to do something to take our
minds off Brexit and various
is the Number of the Beast in the Book of
Revelations, I reminded them. Now
give me a meaning for each of the other
numbers with three identical single digits.
999 was the immediate reply. No explanation
needed and, hopefully, no need for Police,
Ambulance, Fire or Mountain Rescue today.
the time we had reached the end of the track
and the start of the rough climb to Capple
Howe they had added 888, Three Fat Ladies
or the name of a Casino website.
little further on lay our main objective,
Sour Howes. Despite the bitterly cold
wind, the boys were getting into the spirit
of things now. What about 222 as worn
by a couple of ballet dancers? Oh,
yes! There's the Reverend Desmond
Tony's love affair with his new old camera
mine with my old new camera!
the Troutbeck Valley lay Wansfell. Or
as Tony called it One-one-onesfell.
descent to the village is quite dramatic
and, if it were not for the clear path,
you could think yourself in need of a 999
call. A plane flew over. It’s
a Boeing 777 said Martin. That was
Tim Farron’s majority at the last election
lunched at the Post Office café.
The Paninis were nice but the Union
Jack was wrong. It had the narrow
diagonal strip at the top, not the broad
one. O, O, O, I said to the proprietor.
Are you in danger? He didn’t
understand the significance.
route now was along Robin Lane. More
photo opportunities for Tony.
debated whether to continue to Ambleside
but decided instead to drop down to the
Lowwood Hotel to catch the bus there. Tony
and Martin took a great interest in some
old farm machinery.
that gave Martin the inspiration is lost
on me but suddenly he called out. I've
got 444! It's the score before the final
goal in that famous football match- Forfar
5 : Fife 4.
was stuck on 333. The best I can come
up with, he said, is the old long-playing
record. Thirty three and a third revolutions
per minute. We couldn’t improve on
at the Lowwood waiting for the bus, we were
struggling to finish the set. And
then, suddenly, as if by divine providence,
there was the revelation.
him that hath understanding count the number
of the bus: for it shall take you to Ings
and its number is five hundred and fifty
21st November 2019