Thursday 9th August 2013: Keswick

It's over 24 hours since my parents left our beautiful apartment in Keswick. We are are really missing them although I am happy that there are 2 less people to compete against for the red chair in the bay window. A red, mock-leather single chair set against a sash window where you can watch the world and its wife walking by.

Whether walking towards Keswick town-centre or preparing for a day walking on the Lakeland fells, you can peacefully people-watch from that window all day. Actually, 'peacefully' is a little bit of an exaggeration when you have 2 children under 4 years old running around, also peering out of the window and asking why that "bad man is being shouted at by that angry woman". It was difficult to explain to Bethan why these people were having a domestic and beating each other with their Ordnance Survey maps. 

Rob, the assigned cartographer expert for our trip did try to explain to our daughter that "rookies often have this inflamatory argument when hill-walking for the first-time" an answer which seemed to confuse but satisfy her as she immediately asked afterwards if she could watch 'Princess Stories' for the zillionth time.

Yes, it was obvious that although we didn't want as frenetic a week as we did in Consiton, like wise, we didn't want to sit in our Keswick apartment all day people-watching and listening to Princess Jasmine telling us, yet again, how wonderful bloody Aladdin is.

The Red Chair. A Source of competitiveness
as well as a source of some serious
 people-watching

Keswick really is my idyllic place. Rob and I allowed ourselves some me-time whilst in the Northern Lakes. I chose to spend that time in an antique bookshop searching out original Beatrix Potter books. Rob used his me-time to wonder along the fells and take some breath-taking pictures of some breath-taking landscapes. 

Indeed, I found a copy of Beatrix Potter's "Tale of Pigling Bland" in the book shop which I was thrilled with because it was the 100th anniversary of its first publishing. Usually, it is very difficult to date Ms Potter's books as you have to look at the art work on the inside to ascertain when it might have been published. However, I knew this was from 1942 as inscribed it said, "To my beautiful daughter, love Daddy, 1942". 

There are lots of reasons why people are against writing in books but this particular inscription set my imagination on fire. In 1942 the Allies were being pummeled by the Nazis. Was this a final gift from a father to his daughter whilst on leave from the War? Was this a gift simply to celebrate her birthday? All of that night I kept wondering about who bought the book and who the book was intended for. 

That's the beauty of books, it's not only what is inside them that sparks your imagination but also what they represent on the outside to different people. The history of Beatrix writing 'The Tale of Pigling Bland' and the history of the relationship between the person who sent the book and the person who received it is one of my highlights of being in Keswick. 

What a place...what a picture...well done Rob!

Monday 28th July 2013: Hawkshead, The Lake District

Roll up, Roll up for the Magical Literary Tour! (See what happened there ;-)

Twelve years after graduating with a degree in English Literature, I finally managed to visit some of the stomping grounds of The Romantics. After explaining to Rob that I didn't mean we had to start looking for Simon-le-Bon and Tony Hadley, we began our Magical Literary Tour. First Stop: Hawkshead.

We decided to pay Hawkshead Grammar School a quick visit which initially felt a little like a Busman's Holiday until I walked through the door and realised that education in eighteenth century Britain did not remotely look like education today. 10 hours of lessons; on wooden benches; full of males. I could only imagine what the National Union of Teachers would say about such a set up.

Wordsworth - you rebel you!

I also discovered that Hawkshead Grammar School's most famous pupil, William Wordsworth, was a bit of a rebel as there was graffiti at his desk where he had carved his name into the wooden bench where he studied. At least he only carved his name into the wooden bench. More often than not, I have taught in classrooms where the graffiti often involves expletives and a few poor spelling mistakes (this is very disheartening for an English teacher when a pupil spells the word 'phuck' on the back of someone else's chair).

Hawkshead truly personified the quaint, beautiful yet under-stated English village. Among the quirky shops and pubs which are shrouded and protected by the beauty of the mountains, there is a special sense of history about it. This adventure is really beginning to heat up!

A very proud moment at Wordsworth's desk

Friday 25th July 2013: Coniston, The Lake District

It is hard to believe after a difficult and very tiring 12 months, that I am sat beside the peace and beauty of Lake Coniston enjoying a glass of cool, crisp Chenin Blanc whilst watching my children play by its lapping shore and observing Rob savour a pint of the Lake District's finest beer and navigating a fishing net at the same time.

Even harder to believe is that exactly one week ago I had my work leaving/birthday party and swore I would never touch a drop of alcohol again. I've not been out partying like that for 5 years and on the basis of how I have felt over the last week, it is clear that I will need another 5 years to build the stamina for an evening as epic as last Friday.

Mind you, I will be 40 and based on the fact that it took me 3 days to recover this time (one day for each major organ), goodness knows how long it would take for me to re-hydrate myself after the big 4-0.

It really is the sublime to the ridiculous. 

As much as I loved the partying, the peacefulness of the lakes and the soulful rest that they bring, is my idea of bliss. Being here with my beautiful family and seeing how happy our children are at the fact that they have their parents to themselves for a whole week, is as overwhelming as the lakes and mountains themselves. 

Don't get me wrong, camping has been fun this year; however, I have also found it quite stressful. Trying to get James to stop pole dancing around the gas canister that we use for cooking whilst holding the huge camping lighter is a tad nerve-wracking. I feel like I either need CCTV placed around the tent or I need to get James tagged. Neither of which I associate with a relaxing holiday.

Yes...as we are all paddling around the Lake where Donald Campbell felt it was a good idea to attempt the water-speed record in the 1960's, there is a sense of calm that I haven't experienced with James whilst sleeping under canvas.

Rob is enthralled with the Donald Campbell story. Nevertheless, I could have told Mr Campbell that travelling across the Lake at over 300MPH in a blue vehicle that resembled the green Thunderbirds 2 aircraft, would end in tears. 

However, as I watch Rob sip his 'Bluebird' Bitter, it dawns on me that who am I too add pragmatism to the legend that was Donald Campbell.

Above: Splashing good fun at Lake Coniston