Old John, the high point of Bradgate Park, and a Leicestershire landmark. Others may have Yosemite, Jasper, Uluru, Te Urewera or Kruga, but we have Bradgate Park, a square mile of granite outcrops, bracken, deer, and at weekends, teeming herds of Leicestershire-folk enjoying the cropped turf tracks, the younger specimens scrambling over the rocks, as I did in my youth, my kids did, and now our grandchildren do when they visit. The park is at its best at either end of the day, both in terms of the light and peace – we arrived last Sunday just as everyone else was leaving, apart from a few hardy, or daft, souls like ourselves enjoying the sunset in a bitterly cold wind. Plenty of photo opportunities on a nice day, and during the rutting season, when stags lose all reticence, whole paparazzi-style groups of photographers surround each pair of fighting stags as they lock horns. The stags that is, not the photographers. Talking of the rutting season, I mustn’t forget Valentine’s Day tomorrow, or I’ll be in trouble with @shepherdmanswife.
A bitingly cold wind does bring certain advantages sometimes! This looks rather peaceful - I'm curious about Old John although you may have explained before... is it a Folly?
