Give a 'big up' (??!) for my new web design...
(if you care for one yourself, get in touch... and errr.... I will get back to you. Sometime.)
www.cambridgethatching.co.uk
ps. Ignore the actual text - it isn't necessarily all mine... think design design design... heh.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Reflections
Thank you so much to everyone that has enquired re: my Dad... I will get back to you all, but all I can say is that he is fine. Doing pretty well - bit of swelling etc., but nothing too major. He is restored back to his grumpy old self - so all is well ;-)
We have been up to lots, but nothing of any real note! I spent several evenings last week creating a website for my friends Chris and Francesca. Mark can't always understand my motives for doing arduous things for other people, without any gain for myself (not that he really noticed this one). I did however really enjoy the challenge, and of course... I actually enjoy doing things for other people because I can. I haven't ever constructed a website from scratch without using FrontPage or the like, and while I still actually had some help (a friend gave me a starting point to build on) I like to think that perhaps I could rely on someone else to do the same sort of thing for me - help me out with something I simply don't have a clue how to start. Perhaps I am a little too optimistic at times! ;-) Anyway... it means that if I ever need anything thatched, Chris and Fran owe me one... perhaps a new wig for those post-gym moments?
Mark and I celebrated our 4th anniversary last week - and lets just say that we overdid it a little. A simple meal out at our fave local restaurant (The Phoenix in Histon). It turned into a couple of drinks in a pub, then the meal (washed down with wine), then a few drinks in another local hostelry, and home - to drink and put the world to rights (until silly-o-clock)... Its comforting to know that we can still do that after four years, since that is how we more or less started out some four years ago - when he took me to Benstead Marshes for our first date. My Mum still berates me for agreeing to meet a strange man on a marsh - little does she know that he actually picked me up at my house. Heh....
Other than that, not alot to report. Histon FC are doing pretty well, and have for the first time in their history topped Cambridge United in the league tables - something to celebrate!! ;-) Not bad for a village team! ;-)
I had some very sad news yesterday actually... a guy I went to school with, who I was in touch with a few years ago when I lived in Norwich, died at the weekend. Stuart Kiddle - he struck me as a complete hedonist, but an extremely caring soul and a hard worker. He died of a heart attack, bought on by an asthma attack apparently. I guess it puts all my other little worries in life into perspective... my condolences go to his friends and family... far too young. I know that I didn't know him *that* well, but for some reason it has shocked me to the core.
Anyway... on that sorrowful little note, I will sign off. Perhaps I will have something nicer to say later in the week!
Love and Peace
Hayley
xxxx
We have been up to lots, but nothing of any real note! I spent several evenings last week creating a website for my friends Chris and Francesca. Mark can't always understand my motives for doing arduous things for other people, without any gain for myself (not that he really noticed this one). I did however really enjoy the challenge, and of course... I actually enjoy doing things for other people because I can. I haven't ever constructed a website from scratch without using FrontPage or the like, and while I still actually had some help (a friend gave me a starting point to build on) I like to think that perhaps I could rely on someone else to do the same sort of thing for me - help me out with something I simply don't have a clue how to start. Perhaps I am a little too optimistic at times! ;-) Anyway... it means that if I ever need anything thatched, Chris and Fran owe me one... perhaps a new wig for those post-gym moments?
Mark and I celebrated our 4th anniversary last week - and lets just say that we overdid it a little. A simple meal out at our fave local restaurant (The Phoenix in Histon). It turned into a couple of drinks in a pub, then the meal (washed down with wine), then a few drinks in another local hostelry, and home - to drink and put the world to rights (until silly-o-clock)... Its comforting to know that we can still do that after four years, since that is how we more or less started out some four years ago - when he took me to Benstead Marshes for our first date. My Mum still berates me for agreeing to meet a strange man on a marsh - little does she know that he actually picked me up at my house. Heh....
Other than that, not alot to report. Histon FC are doing pretty well, and have for the first time in their history topped Cambridge United in the league tables - something to celebrate!! ;-) Not bad for a village team! ;-)
I had some very sad news yesterday actually... a guy I went to school with, who I was in touch with a few years ago when I lived in Norwich, died at the weekend. Stuart Kiddle - he struck me as a complete hedonist, but an extremely caring soul and a hard worker. He died of a heart attack, bought on by an asthma attack apparently. I guess it puts all my other little worries in life into perspective... my condolences go to his friends and family... far too young. I know that I didn't know him *that* well, but for some reason it has shocked me to the core.
Anyway... on that sorrowful little note, I will sign off. Perhaps I will have something nicer to say later in the week!
Love and Peace
Hayley
xxxx
Monday, September 15, 2008
Stormy Weather
My Dad is normally a pillar of strength... more commonly known as "Stormin' Norman". However, he has been floored in the last couple of years by a fairly aggressive form of arthritis (a rampant strain which has ravaged several members of his Mother's family), and so has had a 'hip resurfacing' operation to rectify some of his problems. On Thursday night last week, on the day of his op, I went to visit him - and he looked positively perky... we had a pleasant evening, chatting about the operation, and while I *should* have known that worse was to come, I somehow managed to blot out the furtive pitying looks of the other men on the ward. I guess they all knew what was to come, but didn't have the heart to tell him. The thing is that on Thursday night he was still attached to his 'epidural' machine - and was subsequently pain free, and blissfully unaware of what was to visit him on Friday.
As it goes... I didn't have a good end to my day on Thursday. When I left Dad to drive home on my own, I found that my headlights were not working (only full beam and the side lights). When you have just hit the M11 in the pitch dark, its not a good moment to discover that you can't see a bloody thing! Foolishly, I decided to pull off the dark road onto a slip road going into Wymondham (pronounced "Windham" by all those Norfolk Wairdos ;-) which seemed brightly lit, and therefore a little safer. WRONG! I pulled onto a track just on a roundabout, and put my call into the AA - who said they would be with me in 40 minutes. Joy! However... I quickly found myself being circled by a rather persistent crowd of 'boi racers' (the Norfolk pronunciation), who whooped at me from their tinted car windows, while sardonic grins play on their be-bum fluffed lips. A few of the braver ones actually got out and approached the car... shit shit shit. I tried mouthing a few obscenities, and used BIG '9 9 9' dialling gestures to scare them off. If in doubt, pretending to be mad always works on young people keen to have a laugh at someone else's expense... ahem. Anyway... thankfully, the AA man arrived (before said kids had had me sectioned), and he soon fixed it and I was on my way. Apparently a fuse had blown... I'm not sure whether he was talking about me or the car!? ;-)
On Friday, Dad's chickens came home to roost. They removed the epidural, and left him to stew in his own juices (quite literally in fact... his 'bag' burst in his bed, and they left him to soak in it for three hours late in the evening). Poor Mum and Tracy turned up at the hospital to find sweat lashing off him, and him literally screaming in agony... not good. He vomited up the morphine they tried to give him, and following his first attempts to get out of bed (onto a trolley for an X-ray, and then to the toilet) he was left feeling tearful and frustrated - unable to get any relief from the pain in his hips. I think it was midnight when they managed to get his pain under control... a deep sigh of relief all round.
Saturday, I joined did a spot of shopping and cleaning in the morning, and joined Mum back at the hospital to visit Dad again. He was so much better than the man that refused to speak to me on the telephone the night before. He was up, and sitting in a chair beside his bed, wearing a pair of jazzy pyjamas, and joking with his fellow 'inmates'. I noticed Dad giving the rather perky guy in the bed opposite one of those furtive and pitying looks - he has just had his op, and was loudly proclaiming that everything was just fine - with his epidural attached of course. Poor guy. Dad was eating properly... in fact a little more than properly. One of the nurses quipped that Dad looked as though he was opening his own deli counter on his bedside table - and it certainly looked that way! Us Brown girls are a big bunch of 'feeders' (including my Mother) - and while several other inmates on the ward were sipping warm lemon squash and eating custard creams, Dad was quaffing Elderflower Cordial, and nibbling on Belgian Florentine biscuits, black spot pork pies, and chocolate covered pumpkin seeds. Mum and I stayed most of the afternoon and early evening and then made our way to Tracy's for dinner. Tracy made a veritable feast of Mussels in "Dill and Tarragon" pesto, served with doorsteps of warm sourdough bread to mop up the juices, lashings of butter, and plenty of vino to wash it down with. Very satisfactory... However, there is a risk attached to staying at my Sister's place. Henry joined us in bed at some point in the night and pee'd on me, and Oscar took it upon himself to bonk me on the head with a wooden hammer at 4:45am... literally shouting "Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!" as he did it... ah well, I guess you cant have it all!Sunday, I headed home and did a spot of cleaning. Mark's Dad joined me for lunch (I finally caught up a little on his trip to Australia), and in the afternoon I hosted a bit of a birthday party for Mark's little niece Emily (poor Mark was at work, and missed out on it). I did save him a bit of the Peppa Pig birthday cake I bought, but Katie made sure she took all of the balloons home with her... supposedly for "Emmily to play with". I suspect though that Katie had her own agenda for those - she had put them all in another room on arrival, just in case any should get "broken". heh. The poor cat, who has been a little off colour of late, took one look at those garish globes wafting in the draught from the back door, and almost cleared the fence in her haste to escape, leaving a trail of bodily substances behind her. In the evening, after all the guests had gone (Paul and his family also popped in for cake), I cooked Mark a roast dinner, and we finally got around to saying hello to one another after several evenings doing different things (and his trip to Scotland). It will be our 4-year anniversary this Wednesday... I am looking forward to celebrating it (after I have been to my brand new pottery class, and Mark has been to a Reserves match for Histon FC and done the photographs). Who said that the age of romance was dead?
Anyway... good news today. Dad is going home. Mum was going to collect him this afternoon - bless her. It will literally be a white knuckle 
ride, as she hates driving - but she hates being parted from Dad more, so she has decided it is worth it. Mark has kindly volunteered to go over on one of his days off this week and cut his grass, and do some bits and bobs for them - no doubt he will be trying to make something resembling a Stenna Stair Lift out of two bits of string and a length of "2 b 4" (Wallace and Grommit stylee), with an attachment to winch Dad up the stairs, dress him and make him a jam sandwich on the way.
Love, Peace and pass the morphine... as they say in Norfolk and Norwich Hospital
Hayls
xxxxxx
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Hurricane Hayley...
Hayley "Whirlwind" Brown - my self given name for the weekend. It was a fiendishly busy one, even by *my* standards.
Friday night, I went to the gym for my spinning class (just to pick up some much needed speed for the rest of the weekend), and spun home to cook a big pot of chilli for Sunday (explained later) and do some bits and bobs to help mark out with his "mid-life crisis" party.
Saturday... up at 5:30, and over to my house in Norwich for 7:30. This is where I really work up some steam. By 8am I have painted the fence outside the house (a second coating of "forget-me-not" blue - ironic, as it still seems to be staining my hands some five days later...). I cleared the front garden of weeds (and some plants), and then set to work on the inside of the house. I painted lounge, parts of the dining room, and the bedroom - all in a glorious shade of White (with a hint of spittle). I'm not sure whether I managed to get more paint on the wall, or on me ;-) I cut the grass in the back garden, cleared some weeds etc. there, hung new curtains and a shower curtain, and in general gave the place a bit of a clean through. Phew... Martin came and signed the contract, and all seems tickety boo chez Quebec Road for at least a little while longer.
After that marathon, I headed over to see Jane and Jamie and little Ben - to give Jane a big bag of clothes I am getting shot of, and (more importantly) to get a cup of tea before I drove back to Lowestoft for the evening. I had been supping water out of the tap all day in Norwich, having forgotten to take a kettle with me! Lovely to see Jane and Jamie, and I CANNOT believe how big Benjamin is now! Bless him! He is a gorgeous hunk of pure cheeky chunkster... absolutely gorgeous, happy and strong little fella.
Having waved them goodbye, I went home to see Mum and Dad (Mum made a delicious beef stew thing). They were going to see "Riverdance" at the Marina Theatre in the evening, which was just as well as I had planned to spend the evening with Ricki, celebrating her birthday. I think that "Riverdance" might have been a poor choice for Dad - a kind of "look what you won't be able to do for the next few weeks" slap in the face for him ;-) He is being operated on (today, actually)... a sort of double hip replacement, where they actually resurface the hip joint with steel. I am obviously deeply concerned for him... not looking forward to visiting him tonight in Hospital (I have developed an aversion to them since the start of this year), but can't wait to give him a hug at the same time. Anyway... lets not dwell.
Mum and Dad went out early, so I went to see my Nan and Grandad who were babysitting for my Aunt's three children. Bless them... I do love them so much. I picked up Ricki from her parent's house (I LOVE going there, and sitting in her old bedroom - it makes me feel like I am 17 again!). We had a really pleasant evening. Went into Oulton Broad for a few drinks, and bumped into some guys from school. Spent much of the evening reminiscing about our mis-spent youth - and how often I used to sit around watching the others snogging, while I was just waiting for the boys to leave so that we could go to the sweet shop ;-)
Sunday, I got up early, did some shopping for my gig in the afternoon, and spent a couple of hours with Mum and Dad, Tracy and the boys... mainly watching the boys argue over the presents I had bought Oscar for his birthday. Ahhh... happy days. I wish that more of my life was spent worrying about whether my Sister said I could play with her new lego or not ;-)
I
n the afternoon, I raced home, scooped up the chilli I had cooked on Friday, and headed over to my friend Sophie's house. She has moved just up the road from me, and was 40 in the summertime. Due to certain circumstances, she was unable to go ahead with a 40th birthday party that she had spent a long time organising for herself. So, her Mum and some friends of hers decided to surprise her last weekend. And boy, was she surprised, bless her! We laid in wait in her house, and waited for her to come home... there was the cruel addition of party poppers - all set off as she came in the door. I think I honestly would have died on the spot! Anyway... the afternoon went off swimmingly. All of the invitees had bought along a couple of delicious dishes each - including an amazing cake in the shape of a male torso by Sophie's friend Tami. Utterly breathtaking package, clad in red glossy underpants. It might take me several days to recover from the shock of that! ;-) (and judging by the faces of a couple of the guests, it might take some of them a good deal longer!
Judging by my face on this picture, I am still contemplating it several hours later... ;-)
By about nine, the party had wrapped up, and I headed home to say goodbye to PW and Noel. They have been camping on Scotland for the week, and I went home to make them a lentil curry to take with them. [This is going to be a difficult week for Mark actually, as tomorrow (Friday) would have been his Mum's birthday.] I finally fell into bed at some point close to midnight, praying for Monday morning to come so that I could chill out a little at work... It seems though that my work was not done. Sophie invited me to hers for dinner on Monday evening, to help eat up the leftovers (yummm), Tuesday I went into the London office, and in the evening met up with John and Steve Doogan at Wagamamas, and last night I had my friend Lynn and her bloke John over for dinner (followed by the pub quiz at the local pub). Tonight, of course I am off to the hospital... and so we go on to the next weekend. You know what they say... no rest for the wicked! ;-) Love, Peace and "pass the valium"... as they say in Histon. Much Love
Hayls
xxxxxx
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Wicked Weekend!
My Danish friend Sofie kindly came to visit me last weekend. It was absolutely lovely to see her - and I don't think she will mind me saying, that she was on the best form that I have seen her for quite some time... happy in herself, and showing no signs of the anxiety that seemed to overtake her last year. She has been successfully treated for hyperthyroidism, which has really really helped her.
Hayls
xxxxxxxxxxx
I picked her up late on Thursday night, and in true Sofie style she actually slept the next morning until lunch time. I admire her sleeping prowess - 9am is about my limit these days! She had had a stressful week though - she is putting up her distraught cousin, who had been dumped unceremoniously by her long term boyfriend (who had by all accounts seemed like the perfect guy until that point). A real shame, as I have met Marie Louise, and she is an absolute stunner, who (which is rare in such stunning looks stakes) is a lovely, humble, kind and gentle little soul, with a mean brain to boot (qualified doctor). Honestly, the girl looks like bloody Helena Christensen.... anyway. I guess there is no accounting for taste (I have told myself the same many times over the years... heh).
Friday night we stayed in with PW, and I cooked her my Tuna Meatballs... bloody delicious, and I don't mind saying so myself. We did consume rather more wine than I had planned, but hey - it's what friends do when they haven't seen each other for quite some time, and we were not ready to break the tradition just yet. To be honest though we made up for it by being pretty sober for the rest of the weekend... halo, check.
On Saturday I dragged the poor unsuspecting girl to Primark on Oxford Street. I think that she regretted asking to go there (she had heard it was good), as I don't think she expected quite so many people fist fighting over untidy heaps of illegally cheap clothing! True to form, she spent not a penny, and I came away with bulging bags - full of things that don't fit me, and are unlikely to unless I go back in time to Middle School... (I seem to have developed an unrealistic sense of myself - in my mind I have the figure and styling of Aygnes Deyn, in reality I loom more like Judith Chalmers on a bad day). The afternoon made up for it though. We went to see "Wicked" the musical at the Victoria Apollo. All of the rave reviews are spot on. This was by far the best theatre production that I had seen in a very long time, and the standing ovation at the end was well deserved! The story, the songs, the jokes... genius! I will say no more other than to go see it if you get a chance.
Saturday evening, we went to Wagamama on the way home (Sofie's first ever time there - and she loved it). Yummy! By registering on their website, I even managed to get one of the main courses for nothing. We were so pooped though that we went straight home... and only spent an hour or two gossiping and sipping Lilt (Sofie's beverage of choice!) before turning in.
Sunday, we took a little saunter around Cambridge, and all too quickly we had eaten lunch at Pizza Express and she was on her way home (via a little pit stop at Burwash Manor to look at all the lovely little shops there). Very sad... its nice to spend time with distant friends, although to be honest many of mine seem to be that way these days!
Anyway... things have been a little bit hectic Chez Brown and Benstead in the last couple of weeks (hence crapness of email contact and general lack of blogging). My house in Norwich requires much sorting, and on Monday night I had to get over there to give it a look over. I am going to decorate it this weekend on the exterior, but thankfully I have a new tenant in the form of a male friend of my Cousin Mark and my friend Nikki. I am glad it is someone I know... We have also been spending a considerable amount of time organising PW's party on the 4th October - a belated (very belated) 40th birthday party for him, or his "mid-life crisis" party as I prefer to call it... heh. I have also been involved with stuff for the football club, and have somehow been drawn into serving behind the bar at a beer festival tonight (all to do with netball, and some money we were donated for kit). I am however due to start a new pottery class in a couple of weeks, which will in fact put pay to my netballing for the forseeable future (not a bad thing considering the number of injuries I have had).
Anyway... enough excuses. A HUGE happy birthday to my darling little nephew Oscar, who is two today. I cannot believe that it was two years ago that I witnessed him spilling into the world! (if the use of that verb seems inappropriate, then tough... believe me when I say that that was the most polite term I could come up with... heh). Where has the time gone?!
Before I go... I also want to share some of my latest 'friend baby' photos... all gorgeous (get ready to say ahhhhhhh...):
Jane and Jamie's little Benjamin, with a slightly orange nose from 'enjoying' too much butternut squash...
Little Lucas in Cambodia... looking a little bit surprised...
And little Campbell and Aiden, snuggling up in Australia for Jen and John...
Hayls
xxxxxxxxxxx
Buttery Goodness
"Lets spend a long weekend in the lakes...", PW said a few weeks ago. Music to my ears. Since the moment Mark took me on my first ever camping trip (some three years ago now), which happened to be in the Lake District, I fell in love with camping, I fell in love with the Lake District, and perhaps even a little more with him... On that particular occasion, we had arrived at Sykes Farm in Buttermere very late at night, and had set up camp by torchlight (actually... Mark set up camp, and I merely held the torch). I will never forget the next morning, when after a night's fitful sleep, I opened the tent flaps and stepped out into the most amazing valley. I can only describe is as the bit in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy opens her front door for the first time, and enters a technicolour paradise. I'm sorry if you have heard this story before, but I could wax lyrical about it forever...
Friday
We made use of the August Bank Holiday (taking an extra day each side of the weekend), and after a not particularly good start (traffic problems on the M6 meant that it took us over six hours to get there), we hauled ourselves out of the car and sighed deeply. Sykes Farm in Buttermere... a veritable haven from the grime and grind of everyday life. You cant get a phone signal, there are no shops as such, "WiFi" might be what you call your socks after a hard day's climbing, the ground is uneven and littered with sheep poo... but it is utterly utterly charming - the right side of rustic, and some distance to the left of sterile. "Are you the Darwin's?" said Farmer Sykes (not sure if this *is* his actual name, but it will do)... "errrr... no... we haven't booked" I said - all innocent and earnest, trying to clear up any misunderstandings. Farmer Sykes is a tiny gentleman in his seventies at the very least (I hope he isn't 40, and just suffering from a very hard life), who wouldn't look out of place in a French B&W photograph of a farmer - replete with wrinkles the colour of stained oak and a black beret. His eyes twinkled as he looked at the canoe... "aha... I thought you were The Darwins", he repeated, meaningfully. I have to say it took me a full ten minutes to realise that this was a slice of Buttermere humour at its best... not even a smile to give himself away. First night we set up camp, reheated the lentil curry I had cooked in advance, went for a half* in The Bridge Inn (just a short walk from the campsite), and slept soundly... with the sound of the brook lulling us to sleep under the dour watchful eye of our project for the morning.
* Yes - a half! Can you see my halo?
Red Pike:- "Red Pike is a fell in the High Stile range in the western English Lake District, which separates Ennerdale from the valley of Buttermere and Crummock Water. It is 755 m or 2,476 ft (755 m) high. The direct ascent of Red Pike from Buttermere is very popular and the ridge walk from Red Pike to Haystacks is regarded as one of the finest in the area, with excellent views of the Scafells, Great Gable and Pillar."
Saturday
We breakfasted on yummy cereals and fruits, and headed off early to scale our silent friend. The start of the ascent to Red Pike is within staggering distance from the Campsite - which meant that we didn't have to risk the slightly hazardous roads all day. It took us around three hours to get to the top - although we had had an hour long diversion around the lake taking photographs (and generally bickering about the map). It was a magnificent climb - and I felt grateful for my recent spate of gym visits, as it was pretty hard going in places (step after stony step). I had my usual little weep at the top (as the red shale slipped under my feet), and Mark took his usual photograph of me mouthing obscenities at his lens. The view from the top was breathtaking. We ate pies (not part of the diet), although I felt mine was well earned - I wore my Polar Heart Rate Monitor, which indicated that I had burnt off well over 1500 calories getting up there, and a further 1000 or so getting down! (I regretted not bringing along some fudge, or Kendall Mint Cake at the very least...!).
The descent was somehow more difficult than the climb. I always find this... muscles in my legs start to hurt that I didn't even know I had! I never forget when Sofie and I took the train up Snowdownia, and walked down (or tumbled down in Sofie's case) - we walked like old ladies for two days after. We thought we had taken the easy option! Back to Red Pike though...I was slightly perturbed by a young couple though that seemed to be almost skipping down the hill - he with a child of about 18 months in a rucksack type affair on his back, and both hands firmly in his pockets. Perhaps I am getting to an age where I see danger in everything... or just perhaps... I am turning into my Mother!
In the evening, I treated myself to a glass of wine and cooked a vegetarian chilli. The sun was actually quite warm in the evening, and we watched the camping world go about its business - engaging in the strange camping tradition of pretending not to hear our neighbours' conversations, and hoping that they will pretend not to hear Mark's rather loud bodily 'functions'. (Mental note: lentil curry and vegetable chilli do not make for good neighbourly relations).
Sunday
Another thankfully sunny day in the Lake District. We took the canoe, complete with Mark's "modifications" to Derwent water. Mark has spent countless days over the summer making "floats" for the canoe, which apparently in the event of capsize (shudder) will prevent the canoe from filling up with too much water. Somehow, guarding against such an eventuality, makes it all the more likely in my mind. So it was with some trepidation that we (well, only *I* was "trepidationised"?) set off across Derwent water. A stiff breeze made it quite hard going, but it is such a beautiful place - lots of little islands in the lake, which is surrounded almost entirely by mountains. We managed to moor up by a tea shop and get some hot drinks, while watching a group of school children (perhaps from a detention centre by the looks of them!) on a kind of canoe assault course. At lunch time, we returned to the car (more pies!), and then went into Keswick to look around the shops. Man... I love the shops in Keswick! I could spend money there like the proverbial man with no arms... (come to think of it, how does a man with no arms spend his money so fast?!). Anyway... we left a little poorer, but happy with our purchases. Several new pairs of walking trousers, and some flashy spotty walking socks for me - new Ron Hills for Mark.
The evening saw us eating the old camping fave, Pasta and Pesto, and battening down the hatches - for there was a storm-a-coming. We were praying for it to blow away our rather loud and young Yorkshire neighbours (I swear that one of the young lads had a megaphone for a mouth). As it turns out, there is a God after all... we heard their shouts in the night as the gale tugged their tent over, and I confess to smiling a little while cradled snugly in the arms of Morpheus.
Monday
Monday was not a particularly glorious day... in fact it absolutely peed down all day. Not to be beaten though, we turned out in the car, and visited Ravenglass and Eskedale Steam Railway - a day trip enjoyed by Mark several times in his childhood. We joined the mug-of-tea and cheese sandwich brigade, and took the little steam train from Ravenglass to Dalegarth and back. A thoroughly gorgeous 14 mile round trip, taking in lots of beautiful scenery and providing good shelter from the main extent of the rain. In the afternoon, we made another trip to Keswick (not least to get the Histon FC football scores - we won twice over the weekend), and I added yet more stuff to my already bulging wardrobe.
In the evening, we ate at The Bridge Inn just down the road from the campsite, and I treated myself to more than just the one beer. Utterly delicious! I had "jewel" of lamb - like a lamb shank, but even bigger and even more tender. I can highly recommend.
Tuesday
This was our last day, and sadly our day to go home. Mark seemed to hurt his back while having our last walk around Keswick, so it made the journey home a little more painful for him than he would have liked.
We had a fantastic break... If you want to see the photographs from the trip - check them out here!
Love, Peace and "do we have to climb up *that* bit to be at the top?"... as they say on Red Pike.
Hayls
xxx
Friday
We made use of the August Bank Holiday (taking an extra day each side of the weekend), and after a not particularly good start (traffic problems on the M6 meant that it took us over six hours to get there), we hauled ourselves out of the car and sighed deeply. Sykes Farm in Buttermere... a veritable haven from the grime and grind of everyday life. You cant get a phone signal, there are no shops as such, "WiFi" might be what you call your socks after a hard day's climbing, the ground is uneven and littered with sheep poo... but it is utterly utterly charming - the right side of rustic, and some distance to the left of sterile. "Are you the Darwin's?" said Farmer Sykes (not sure if this *is* his actual name, but it will do)... "errrr... no... we haven't booked" I said - all innocent and earnest, trying to clear up any misunderstandings. Farmer Sykes is a tiny gentleman in his seventies at the very least (I hope he isn't 40, and just suffering from a very hard life), who wouldn't look out of place in a French B&W photograph of a farmer - replete with wrinkles the colour of stained oak and a black beret. His eyes twinkled as he looked at the canoe... "aha... I thought you were The Darwins", he repeated, meaningfully. I have to say it took me a full ten minutes to realise that this was a slice of Buttermere humour at its best... not even a smile to give himself away. First night we set up camp, reheated the lentil curry I had cooked in advance, went for a half* in The Bridge Inn (just a short walk from the campsite), and slept soundly... with the sound of the brook lulling us to sleep under the dour watchful eye of our project for the morning.
* Yes - a half! Can you see my halo?
Red Pike:- "Red Pike is a fell in the High Stile range in the western English Lake District, which separates Ennerdale from the valley of Buttermere and Crummock Water. It is 755 m or 2,476 ft (755 m) high. The direct ascent of Red Pike from Buttermere is very popular and the ridge walk from Red Pike to Haystacks is regarded as one of the finest in the area, with excellent views of the Scafells, Great Gable and Pillar."
Saturday
We breakfasted on yummy cereals and fruits, and headed off early to scale our silent friend. The start of the ascent to Red Pike is within staggering distance from the Campsite - which meant that we didn't have to risk the slightly hazardous roads all day. It took us around three hours to get to the top - although we had had an hour long diversion around the lake taking photographs (and generally bickering about the map). It was a magnificent climb - and I felt grateful for my recent spate of gym visits, as it was pretty hard going in places (step after stony step). I had my usual little weep at the top (as the red shale slipped under my feet), and Mark took his usual photograph of me mouthing obscenities at his lens. The view from the top was breathtaking. We ate pies (not part of the diet), although I felt mine was well earned - I wore my Polar Heart Rate Monitor, which indicated that I had burnt off well over 1500 calories getting up there, and a further 1000 or so getting down! (I regretted not bringing along some fudge, or Kendall Mint Cake at the very least...!).
The descent was somehow more difficult than the climb. I always find this... muscles in my legs start to hurt that I didn't even know I had! I never forget when Sofie and I took the train up Snowdownia, and walked down (or tumbled down in Sofie's case) - we walked like old ladies for two days after. We thought we had taken the easy option! Back to Red Pike though...I was slightly perturbed by a young couple though that seemed to be almost skipping down the hill - he with a child of about 18 months in a rucksack type affair on his back, and both hands firmly in his pockets. Perhaps I am getting to an age where I see danger in everything... or just perhaps... I am turning into my Mother!
In the evening, I treated myself to a glass of wine and cooked a vegetarian chilli. The sun was actually quite warm in the evening, and we watched the camping world go about its business - engaging in the strange camping tradition of pretending not to hear our neighbours' conversations, and hoping that they will pretend not to hear Mark's rather loud bodily 'functions'. (Mental note: lentil curry and vegetable chilli do not make for good neighbourly relations).
Sunday
Another thankfully sunny day in the Lake District. We took the canoe, complete with Mark's "modifications" to Derwent water. Mark has spent countless days over the summer making "floats" for the canoe, which apparently in the event of capsize (shudder) will prevent the canoe from filling up with too much water. Somehow, guarding against such an eventuality, makes it all the more likely in my mind. So it was with some trepidation that we (well, only *I* was "trepidationised"?) set off across Derwent water. A stiff breeze made it quite hard going, but it is such a beautiful place - lots of little islands in the lake, which is surrounded almost entirely by mountains. We managed to moor up by a tea shop and get some hot drinks, while watching a group of school children (perhaps from a detention centre by the looks of them!) on a kind of canoe assault course. At lunch time, we returned to the car (more pies!), and then went into Keswick to look around the shops. Man... I love the shops in Keswick! I could spend money there like the proverbial man with no arms... (come to think of it, how does a man with no arms spend his money so fast?!). Anyway... we left a little poorer, but happy with our purchases. Several new pairs of walking trousers, and some flashy spotty walking socks for me - new Ron Hills for Mark.
The evening saw us eating the old camping fave, Pasta and Pesto, and battening down the hatches - for there was a storm-a-coming. We were praying for it to blow away our rather loud and young Yorkshire neighbours (I swear that one of the young lads had a megaphone for a mouth). As it turns out, there is a God after all... we heard their shouts in the night as the gale tugged their tent over, and I confess to smiling a little while cradled snugly in the arms of Morpheus.
Monday
Monday was not a particularly glorious day... in fact it absolutely peed down all day. Not to be beaten though, we turned out in the car, and visited Ravenglass and Eskedale Steam Railway - a day trip enjoyed by Mark several times in his childhood. We joined the mug-of-tea and cheese sandwich brigade, and took the little steam train from Ravenglass to Dalegarth and back. A thoroughly gorgeous 14 mile round trip, taking in lots of beautiful scenery and providing good shelter from the main extent of the rain. In the afternoon, we made another trip to Keswick (not least to get the Histon FC football scores - we won twice over the weekend), and I added yet more stuff to my already bulging wardrobe.
In the evening, we ate at The Bridge Inn just down the road from the campsite, and I treated myself to more than just the one beer. Utterly delicious! I had "jewel" of lamb - like a lamb shank, but even bigger and even more tender. I can highly recommend.
Tuesday
This was our last day, and sadly our day to go home. Mark seemed to hurt his back while having our last walk around Keswick, so it made the journey home a little more painful for him than he would have liked.
We had a fantastic break... If you want to see the photographs from the trip - check them out here!
Love, Peace and "do we have to climb up *that* bit to be at the top?"... as they say on Red Pike.
Hayls
xxx
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