and if you have to look.. does that mean there was never one to find in the first place? ha, and should people be allowed to ask annoying questions like that?..ha (again)
So.. interesting ness.. since I last had internet, I have no idea whats happened really.. I passed over both the English/Welsh and English/Scottish Border.. leaving me in Scotland. We did plan on visiting the Lakes district but due to a ingrained lack of foreplanning on my half.. and a lack of desire for foreplanning on my mothers behalf (this is what happens when she gets into a holiday mood) we ended up in the Lakes district in high season on a Saturday sans accommodation. This was, as one possibly can imagine, a BAD thing, and a cause of some stress between both Mother and Daughter (daughter who in this case happened to be losing afore mentioned war with both navigation and accommodation.. it was not so pretty) but it all turned out well in the end. Despite all my vague wandering thoughts of stealing caravans, sleeping in the car, begging someone to let me sleep in their kitchen.. we ended up at a Youth Hostel, which althought being fully booked out happened to be manned by a wonderful gentleman. I use the word gentleman with some.. (that word which has slipped my mind.. thingo) Trepidation! S’the one ..because he was.. well the kind of bloke who at 40 something works at a Youth Hostel.. (note. Not the sad pathetic kind who is trying to get his life back by hanging out with youths) but the genuine hippy kind.. with the proper raggedy long hair in a pony tail, lanky disposition and green cords (a type of pants)
-explanations of various things are currently being put in because Im not 100% who my audience is and don’t really want to assume mountains of prior knowledge..-
And he was fantastic.. (so was this youth hostel actually.. forgotten where it is, but some town north west of the lakes district fantastic.) he was very apologetic for not having somewhere for us to sleep.. not that it was overly his fault.. so he rang around everywhere within 15miles (I have no idea how far that actually is..) to find us accommodation.. and did! More success! Go us.. lol and many thanks to afore mentioned nameless man.
But.. that’s not really a story.. or maybe it is.. whos to say? Probably not an interesting one.. so.. for the goss (as they say)
We walked into a tourist information centre.. (wow.. what a radical tourist activity I hear you say..just wait.. just wait I say) and the lady in there is laughing.. rather maniacally from my view.. and with a later phone conversation the cause of said maniacality (word doesn’t accept that as a word.. but it should be) soon becomes apparent. This lass had walked into her office to find shells (as in gun cartridges) on her desk, with a note underneath them detailing why they were there (they were found in the park) and that they were possibly, but not defiantly live, this had left the poor lady in hysterics. It later became apparent that she thought that a live shell meant that it was.. well live.. liable to go off at any point (and I imagine she thought it was suddenly going to explode the whole info centre). I gently tried to explain (hopefully truthfully.. please don’t someone come along and tell me the damn things are seriously dangerous on their robinson) basic combustion and the need for a confined space etc. for them to explode with any great meaning.. but she was still rather concerned and called the Army to take them away, she was amazingly adamant that they had left them behind.. it is quite possible that if I were in the situation I would have tried to sell them on Ebay.. which possibly shows a very warped sense of values.. and possibly lack of respect towards OH&S.. and military equipment (no surprise there).
The ammo also brought up another, mortally interesting topic. It is Deer Stalking season in the UK. (note that.. stalking.. not watching) I had rather forgotten they still hunt here –although its no different when we roo hunt, pig hunt, or kull (a nice word for massacre) kangaroos, its just they aren’t activites I have ever had much to do with- its quite different to discover that people are stalking within walking distance, and that its wise to wear bright colours so they don’t think you are a deer (this does rather bring up the question of what happens if you aren’t wearing bright colours). As far as I know no one has ever thought I resembled a deer before, but as of that day I have decided not to risk it, just in case I happen to be going through a deery phase (god willing this will not happen..) reassurance on this point is most welcome.
I had a rather odd realisation this morning. And the preface odd should truly be empasised, odd and totally unrelated to deer.. I realised I have no recollection as to what I normally eat for breakfast (not deer.. or shells for that matter). As in the normally when I was back in Aus. not the normally tramping round potato farms at 4000m in the Andes. Not the normally waking up after 4hrs sleep in the Artic circle. DEFINATLY not the normal of a plane breakfast, or cereal at Alex’s, or rushed in Portugal, or at a youth Hostel in Germany. But what I ate on the Peninsula, the place with the wine, rich and poor people, fantastic beaches and café virus. In what I can only describe as normal normality. It wasn’t toast, or cereal or.. well I can cross out a lot.. including Black Pudding and Bagels. (or beagles). Again one of those frustrating mysteries that hits you over tea in the morning. And that probably doenst really need to be shared with the world.. but you never know.. someone out there might remember…
Tea was, in this case, in what is described as a ‘Manor House’ (apparently its not a mansion although that’s what id, in my common convict tongue, call it). Its old and stunning.. and everything oozes OLD money. I really recommend a stay, it has views over a Loch (and sailing boats) and the Lady of said house is Sybil Ramsey (well not totally she breeds Rhodendendrons rather than things with scales.. but it’s the same casual messyness knowing that she doesn’t need to be perfectly presentable because she has the ‘breeding’ behind her, its fantastic.) (and sorry to people who don’t get the reference.. try googling Sybil Ramsey or Sybil Vimes and see what you get, N.B she is actually an entirely fictional character).
What else is of note? The sheep have tails (it looks Uber unco). There are old ‘ruins’ everywhere.. cairns (old burial mounds) standing stones etc. I cant say looking at them in the rain was wise.. it did just leave me with a feeling that all people from the ancient world were screwy buggers who just put these things here for show, to confuse archaeologists and force poor tourists to come look at them in the rain, so they can freeze to death and get frostbite on their noses.
I have since decided that this may have been a slightly irrational conclusion to reach, and that they probably are actually interesting..when you aren’t freezing and bitter about being freezing.
They are very old. I just cant work out WHY you would drag rocks into a field then stand them up. Maybe it just seemed like a good idea at the time. (something I can rather too well empathise with..that would be how I ended up in Peru, Norway twice and Portugal, and germany.. and…)
But got to run.. hope some one managed to stick it through to the end..Take care.. and smile (still stolen.. I know.. ill ™ it next time..)
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