🇬🇧 🇷🇺 Someone once asked what I miss about England. I replied to him 'the hills', he laughed, I dont think he understood. Its often said in the media that I come from Oldham. Actually I come from a small village in the Pennine hills right on the Yorkshire and Lancashire border, several miles from Oldham. It used to be, and still is in a small way, a tiny enclave of English traditions. This is my father singing one of his songs on one of the hills surrounding our village. Alphen Pike. An old Celtic Legend has it that two giants lived on the hills called Alphen and Alder. They fought for the love of a maiden called Rimmon. She used to wash her hair in the river each morning. Alder grew angry at the attention that Rimmon gave to Alphen, and he launched a huge bolder which missed Alphen and crushed Rimmon to death. The bolder is there to be seen in the bottom of the valley near my village. 'Closer to the old gods here, these sacred places on high. Alder slew Alphin and Rimmon fell. Companion of weather torn rocks, wind hanging raven banners. Remnants of ancient battles. Old bones in the peat, wait to rise again.'