A geological time

As the sun sets alight the forest above the town for a few brief minutes, it is enough to think of that forest surviving around us for over a thousand years. But to enter the landscape of geological time stretches my imagination to breaking every time.
A notice in the square invited us to try out a knew county geology walk. The first test was to find the start point at ten a.m. Windy bottom was not on the map, nor was it called windy lane as the message suggested. Surprisingly the young lady in the tea cosy hat arrived on time with sheavs of information. But the first bit of it was that we were not supposed to be starting from here anyway.
“So that is where the lottery spends its money” I thought.
The walk was at least ten miles long; not appropriate for a six year old on the coldest day of the year. There were pictures of the main geological feature of the area, the town quarry. But there is no public right of way through it. They should have suggested we bring field glasses. The tea-cosy girl was going back home to bed rather than earn her money coming round with us. We had to find our own way and report back. No flares supplied if we became lost.
We set off up the salt way till we reached the edge of the quarry. It made much more sense to abandon the route suggested and investigate the forbidden territory. We rambled through the mud and crunched into the icy puddles. J covered himself in primeval goo scrambling up the quarry face. He collected a great big chunk of ice which he treasured all the way home. C dug into the slope and came up with fossils. There are so many shell fossils here, all mixed in with modern mollusc carapaces, muck and stone.
Our notes gave names to the different levels in the quarry, but they were only geographic names. They gave no clue to the ages. Just how long does it take to crush sea shells so hard into the sea floor they form into lime stone. Or maybe that is chalk!?
It is so long since I read anything of geology. Just how long does it take for the land to turn from sea to land to sea again.
Squatting on a ledge above us, a man who described himself as Jerry Springer called out to us. He had meant to come with us but could not find any windy bottoms or windy lanes. He had actually joined this local geology trust. Like us, he was happy to explore the quarry rather than head off up the salt way.
It was very cold in the biting north east wind, but it was so very bright and clear after so much cloud and snow we had to press on beyond the quarry.
We crossed over the lane and into the woods. It would be very hard to do yourself much damage falling in the quarry, though it is possible. Falling on barbed wire along the margins is a very different prospect. But in many places it has all been removed, and only the odd bramble blocks the way.
I have had chats with the local mining engineer about health and safety. Having had a few deaths in his time, he is quite concerned about it. I find all the Blairy legislation on it a hazard to a good and a meaningful life for those of us not forced to work in mines.
Huge pay outs go to people slipping on a mushroom in a super-market in Blairy England. I do not suppose there will be any pay outs for the Iraqis we have killed or even the ones we have tortured.
While this old quarry has been expensively cleaned up for our enjoyment, we have no compunction in dumping our depleted uranium stocks on the poor people of the middle east.
H lane is the loveliest walk back into C..y. The bridleway now passes a brand new mansion for Blair’s new super rich. The other people on the unmade road had to fight to stop it being tarmacked. Was the new owner going to pay, or had he got some strings to pull with the council? It was good to be out, but it was great to be home again, in the warm. 2 hours of our life time, barely a blink in the life of the planet. yet we may be able to destroy all life on earth in the next century or two.