We arrived last evening to spend the night with Pete�s grandparents at Loughborough. They were recently returned from a long stay in Poland with family, and the house was in much confusion, as they had brought back many packets of coffee and chocolates, and other goodly comestibles. We were welcomed warmly by P�s grandmother, and P was immediately put to work with hanging pictures. His grandfather was somewhat confused, and attempted to converse with us at length in Polish, to which P responded, uborka! This being Hungarian had no effect on the proceedings.
We ate chinese food, including deadly sweet banana fritters, and then repaired to a local nightclub to watch the music videos and take part in some dancing. This morning we made a reasonably early start, leaving Loughborough at 10.30 and following the M1 all the way to Bradford, where we stopped at Asda for some supplies, and a change of driver. Up we went through Keighley, Skipton, Settle, Kirkby Lonsdale and on to the Kendal bypass, where the traffic was infuriatingly slow.
At last we were leaving Windermere and driving past Rydal and White Moss, and in sight of Grasmere, where I excitedly pointed out the house across the lake. We went slowly through the village, as the many tourists seemed heedless of the car; and then along the last stretch of road up to Kelbarrow’s drive, where I noticed that one of the gateposts has been completely smashed. Aunt S later told us that this had been done by a gas tanker, a few days ago.
We settled in and had some tea in the drawing room, and then P was asked to reach up to the squirrel feeder, so it could be refilled with nuts. Aunt S told us much about the difficulty of parking in the village, and then we pulled on our boots and went out to walk around the lake.
It seemed as still as a pond, so we took photographs of the reflections, and admired the lushness of the island from all angles. We ran about a little on the rocks at the end of the lake, and strolled back along the road to the village, calling in at The Lamb for a glass of beer. An american gentleman was at the bar, asking for a menu of beer, and then choosing the Theakstons, because it said it was the best bitter. This amused us momentarily, but then we felt quite wicked.
We spent some moments up on the Green Hill, where my grandmother�s ashes were interred a few months ago; and we agreed that she had a perfect view of the fells on one side and the lake on the other. In solemn moments, I feel that this is the only place on earth where my soul could rest.
Now we sit quietly in the drawing room window, watching birds on the feeder. There are many chaffinches and we have also seen great tits, coal tits, and even a bullfinch, black capped and red caped, who allowed us a brief glimpse of rich plumage before returning to the shelter of the azalea.
It is raining quite heavily, and we hope to see badgers later.