Peter Rhodes on impartiality, slow cookery and the village that vanished down a join
I may from time to time bang on about the hair-tearing frustration of modern digital equipment compared to the blissful simplicity of ye olden analog. However, when you're map reading, there is one thing joyously absent from a digital screen. There is no join in the map.
As any old soldier will tell you, battles tend to be fought at night, uphill, in pouring rain and on a join in the map. A friend set off for the Yorkshire Dale a few days ago and, having instantly found his destination on his smartphone, decided to check it against his old paper road atlas.
It took ages to find the village. It happened to be on a join in the map which, when prised apart, revealed “Gig******ck.” Giggleswick: the village swallowed by a join.
