Who needs Mountain Rescue? [Plus, joining Gran's Coven!]

Diary Week Eleven.

Friday 6^th September.

I drove Laura to work this morning and have spent the day doing loads of paperwork. I mean absolutely masses. I went through my Salisbury work [all on my computer] and have produced 6 sets of lecture notes about the stone age settlements in the Old Sarum area; Roman occupation; foundation of an Anglo Saxon Settlement; the transition after the Norman Conquest; the construction of the stone buildings at Old Sarum and its use during the early Norman period. I think I may have too much for six hours, maybe about 10 hour’s-worth including power points etc.

I e-mailed the salient points to my supervisor and the full text of the first one. I am waiting to hear back. It was really enjoyable putting all this stuff together. It is not something I have done before apart from a couple of one offs during my MA course. But those were really reporting on the work in progress with the found casket, not part of a programme of study for undergraduates. I am going to test one out on Laura. See if it makes sense. Also this will check if I haven’t been too technical in my vocabulary and language use. As a Mathematician, if she can follow it then a History student should have no trouble.

As I am picking the Aged parent and Louisa up from Heysham tomorrow, I decided it might be a good idea to do his shopping tonight from Keswick. I picked Laura up from work in Wigton and drove us straight there. She said, “Where are we going?” So when I explained she was less than happy as she thought she looked a complete mess from being at work. I had to convince her she looked gorgeous. She was eventually placated, especially as I had planned our dinner at the Indian Restaurant near central car-park in Keswick. That was a brilliant idea. I had their Thali and it was really excellent.

We then shopped at Booth’s getting all the items on Dad’s list plus three bottles of the red wine we had to replace, as we’d been drinking it during the week. I must say, though, we usually shop at Morrisons or Sainsburys [Workington and Cockermouth respectively] and we’d have paid a lot less for the same things there. It was Dad’s money though, so who am I to argue?

After shopping we went to the Keswick cinema to watch “About Time”. What a disappointment! Laura thought it was pretty good but I thought it was rubbish. I guess Laura hasn’t seen “Groundhog Day”, which has the same basic idea. Plus the leading male is awful, he is so saccharine sweet there is no learning process for him to go through in his time travelling repeat incidents. At least with “GD” Bill Murray changes from a horrible, spiteful git into a really loveable and nice person and then gets the girl. I suppose About Time is for the short attention span generation who can’t cope with too many different ideas at once.

Callie and Dad’s hounds went mental when we got back from Keswick. I guess they had been in their palace a long time, plus the light in their kennel had broken so they had been in darkness for a couple of hours too. To make it up to them I walked them all the way to the top of the road on Tallentire Hill. I am not sure if they realised how kind I was being to them. I have a super bright LED torch especially for night-time walking of my pup. At the top, by the seat was a parked car with steamed up windows! The occupants must have seen my light gradually getting closer and closer unless they were too absorbed in what they were doing. The thought of what was happening inside the car got me quite turned on, so when I got back I was able to persuade Loll to share a shower before we hit the charp. She didn’t need any persuading and we didn’t really shower either!

Lying in bed, she asked me if she’d had a way of travelling back in time and had started to let me know how she felt about me a lot sooner than she actually did, would it have made any difference to us. I told her if she’d told me when I was an undergraduate I would probably have ignored her as she was still a school girl and so underage. In 2006, when I started Uni, she’d have been 12! If she’d told me when I came to Sheffield I could quite easily have seen us being together much sooner and she’d probably have chosen Sheffield University to do her maths degree. I wouldn’t have wasted my time with Alan and we’d probably have even more happy memories of our life together.

This did get my mind focusing on Annabelle and her underlined note. “I want to be JUST like you.” Please don’t let it mean what I think it may mean!

 

Saturday September 7^th.

I dropped Laura off at work in Wigton using Dad’s Citroen C5 tank of an estate car and then headed south to Heysham to collect him and Louisa. I had put a huge chicken casserole in the slow cooker so that it would be ready at tea time for us all to have a scoff without any one needing to be slaving away.

It took a bit longer than expected to get down there as the traffic on the motorway was pretty heavy and then into Heysham itself it was chock-a-block too! The silly woman driving Dad’s car had forgotten it was Saturday and the change-over day for lots of holiday makers. As I had set off in really good time the volume of traffic hadn’t made me miss the ferry, on the contrary I was about an hour early, so I had a stroll along the sea front at Morecambe to kill time. I think I have been here before, but I can’t be sure. In places it looks quite run down but then there are massive building and regeneration projects going on, like the Midland Hotel, for example. The tide was in and Morecambe bay looked magnificent. It is hard to imagine how I walked across the bay at low tide last year. That was one of the most amazing things I have done.

Dad and Louisa, as foot passengers, were off the ferry before any of the cars had even started to disembark, so we were able to beat the queue of vehicles leaving the ship. They’d had a brilliant time in Northern Ireland and had even gone walking in the Mountains of Morne. Envy, envy, envy. I had thought they’d be sailing a lot, around the coast and the like, but it seems they used the yacht as their accommodation and all four of them went sight-seeing round the province. They’d visited the Titanic exhibition and had a long day in Belfast proper. They had even spent one day driving [hire car for the week] up to the Giant’s Causeway! Even more envy! They told me I must go for myself. I would love it, especially with Laura. We could call on mad Nad in Derry and really attack her prejudices!

To be honest I have always been a bit wary of wanting to visit Northern Ireland because of the troubles and the area’s recent, violent history. They assured me that they felt completely safe all the time they were there. I am not fully convinced.

Dinner was pretty enjoyable and Dad just loved the wine I’d bought for him. He wasn’t at all surprised that Laura and I had drunk three bottles of it during the week. We had a breathless ‘phone call at about 9pm from Phil and Jane. Jane’s pregnant again! They found out for certain today and had been phoning everyone. Phil had just had his ear bent by Suze for phoning her at four in the morning, Oz time, but she forgave him when she heard the news. This will be Mum & Dad’s sixth grandchild. I was really pleased for P & J and I promised I would call in and see them on my way down to Sheffield next weekend.

I speculated out loud that this was the second baby I had been told about since getting back from Oz, there had to be another one on the horizon. Dad and Louisa both turned to look at me with really serious and earnest expressions. I blurted out, “Don’t look at me. I am not having one any time soon!” Louisa said,”No we weren’t expecting that. It’s just your Dad and I have been trying for one….”

G U L P ! !

OMG. Dad is 60, Louisa is 42. No. No. Nooooooo!

She went on with, “We’ve had no luck so far but who knows? There was a feature on that Science programme on Radio 4 about fertility not dropping like a stone at 40. It appears it was all based on flawed data.” I muttered that I’d heard that too. She went on to say if it happened it happened but they weren’t planning on anything drastic like IVF. I was lying there on the sofa thinking “Thank Bloody God for that!” Could I cope with my Dad being a Dad again?  Would it be fair on any sprog to have such old parents?

I know they are only a year into their marriage but the thought of them trying for a baby seems wrong to me. It is stupid and narrow minded of me, of course. I deserve a good slap for feeling this way but I can’t help it. It will really mess my head up if she does fall pregnant. I wonder how much of my reaction is down to what happened to me during my first year at University. I think it may be a case of differences in our perception. I perceive a foetus as an unwanted intrusion into my life style but D & L actively want that sort of intrusion into their lives. I will have to talk it over with Laura.

It is not my business to criticise them for wanting what all married couples seem to want. I feel so confused. Earlier in the year I actually thought Louisa might be pregnant as she seemed [to me, with my limited knowledge] to be displaying some of the signs. She had actually started to go down with a viral infection that took weeks to clear up! Good job I decided not to study medicine, then!

 

Sunday 8^th September.

Laura and I have had a major fall out! In my bedroom, before we went to sleep, I tried to tell her that I was appalled by the thought of Dad and Louisa having a baby but she thought it was lovely. She said that she hoped they’d be successful. Her view was not what I had expected at all. In fact it was totally the opposite! I think this was the most upsetting aspect of all. How could I have misjudged her reaction so much? This started me thinking…. Have I been imposing my views onto Laura and assuming that my views will match hers? Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? I am so upset! OK, not as upset as I would have been had she stormed out of the house and gone back to her place instead of just decamping to the sofa bed.

She grabbed her pillows and stomped over to the day bed with them, she took the spare quilt I keep in the Ottoman at the foot of the bed and threw that onto the sofa and went to sleep, there on the sofa! She wouldn’t come back to bed and sleep with me and she wasn’t going to discuss it any further until the morning.  All this happened after a sotto voce argument at about 1 in the morning.

She seemed to fall asleep in next to no time while I was wide awake and agitated for ages and ages. Even Callie sensed the atmosphere in the room and came and nudged my hand a few times as if to reassure me that it would be OK. My stomach was in knots and I was certain I’d not fall asleep at all, I must have dozed off eventually at about 3pm. The last time I remembered looking at the alarm clock it was 2.55. When I snapped awake at 5.45 Laura wasn’t on the day bed and the quilt was on the floor. I sat up about to burst into tears but found her lying back next to me in bed again. I hugged her and smothered her in kisses. I kept telling her I was sorry, sorry, sorry. She just said, “Oh, shut up you silly bitch and hold me tight for a while!” We fell asleep snuggled together like this only to be woken up by Callie wanting to go out at about 7am.

We had another long chat after Callie had been out. It seems that I am not a dominating or domineering personality. I do not browbeat Laura into doing what I want. She isn’t being treated as a doormat and I do listen to her and appear to value her opinions, beliefs and ideas. As far as she is concerned I may have more paper qualifications than her but she regards us as a partnership of equals. She goes along with things I suggest because they are what she would have suggested herself. If she feels she wants to do something different she does tell me and we do that.

I know I refer to her as Little Loll and maybe make out that I decide all the things that we do, but that may not be quite an accurate representation of what really happens. I am so glad. I’d hate to think I was some tyrannical butch dyke woman and she was a frail, innocent little flower too scared to do anything because of my reaction. I do worry about stuff like this. I asked her if I could show her how much I loved her and I proceeded to lick her to orgasm so many times she eventually pushed my head away, telling me it was my turn. We will have to fall out some more!

All four of us, and four dogs went out on the fells today. We went to Ennerdale and climbed up Herdus [Great Borne]. It has a fairly steep ascent at one point but then has a great rocky summit which sort of reminds me of a limestone pavement – except it isn’t limestone. We parked up at the car park half way along Ennerdalewater and walked back up the road for a while in the direction we’d just come from. The climb branches off to the right a little way past the cattle grid. It is a steepish climb but not too severe and it leads into a little col between Bowness Knott and the side of the fell proper. I sometimes do the Bowness Knott circuit if I want a quick walk. Today, out of the col, we went up the much steeper climb to Herdus proper. Here we ascended through heather and bracken, meaning the dogs disappeared unexpectedly into the undergrowth from time to time. You then had to watch out for them coming running past or knocking into your legs. The latter happened to me and I was pitched backwards down the slope. Luckily, I knew that I had to just relax [this is really hard to do when you’re falling as you want to try and put arms out to stop yourself] and let myself slump down. My rucksack bore the majority of the impact but then my head hit a bloody rock in the bracken. It caught the side of my forehead about an inch higher than my temple and right on the hair line. It stung like buggery!

Louisa was first to my side, after Callie, and she just said, “Bloody hell!” I smiled at her and then, as she was upside down, I went all woozy. The next thing I recall was me sitting up [they must have swivelled me the right way round on my bum] with my back to the slope and looking out over Bowness Knott. Dad was wiping my face and asking me how I was. I had a cut along the edge of my forehead about two centimetres long which was gushing blood with alacrity. Dad wiped my face and the mounting pile of bloodied tissues by my bum showed just how much red stuff had been spilled. He gave me his clean hanky and told me where to press it against my head. So I did. He’d soaked the hanky in the stream alongside the path and it was cold. I assumed it was water running down my face rather than blood as that was cold too. Loll had a cup of tea in her hand for me from one of the flasks and Dad told me to have a drink. So I did. It was the Ahmed Brand I had found in Kendal some time ago, and I was able to tell him so. This seemed to cheer him up no end.

After about 10 minutes the bleeding seemed to have stopped when I removed the hanky. Louisa had cut some strips of plaster to suture the cut, which she carefully applied. Dad said, “I think we should go back down.” But I was adamant I was alright. I felt fine. My forehead stung where I had caught the rock but that was all. I wasn’t disorientated, I didn’t feel sick and my sight wasn’t fuzzy. They were concerned I might have concussion but I was sure the blow had only been a glancing one which was why there was a cut above my temple. If I had hit my head with full force on the ground as I fallen I’d be worried but as it was I had made only passing contact with the edge of a rock and felt fine.

Dad was getting more and more insistent that we should go back down to the car and I was equally as certain that I’d be fine. Irresistible force meets an immovable object. I told him to pour me some more tea and then we’d see how I was after that. A second cup of hot, sweet tea and a Cadbury’s Double Decker made feel as right as nine pence and I told Dad I would only go back down screaming and kicking!

We went on to the top. I was fine. The cut did start to throb a bit but I assumed that was only to be expected as the climb was raising my blood pressure.  The summit shelter on top of Herdus is pretty good. It is almost circular and has a high wall. We sat there for a good half an hour, ate our sandwiches; drank some more tea and Dad examined my head again and looked at my eyes. My pupils were responding normally and there was no blood seeping from the cut. He took my head in his hands and kissed me on the forehead. “You are a stubborn drongo, you know?”

“I wonder who I get it from?” Louisa pitched in with her observation that the pair of us are alike in so many ways! Unexpected support but welcome. All the time we were in the shelter not another soul appeared on the summit! I know Ennerdale is quite an isolated valley but I would have expected to see some other people up there. I toyed with the idea of pretending to faint when I stood up but realised that would be a spectacularly stupid thing to do, even for me! So I resisted the temptation.

Our route took us across the fell top and onto Starling Dodd. This is just a smooth round bump, not the rock strewn pavement of Herdus. At the top we did finally meet some other people. Two youngish women and two slighter older looking blokes. They had come down from Red Pike and were trying to find Scale Force! Dad asked them for their map so he could show them where they were and how to get to Scale Force. They didn’t have one!

How can people be so stupid? They had parked in Buttermere and just gone up the nearest hill [Red Pike]. To his credit Dad didn’t berate them or be sarcastic or anything. He pointed out Red Pike, then the ridge to the left. He patiently explained how they needed to go back and follow the ridge down. That would lead them back to Scale Force, after that they needed to keep the hill on their right hand side and eventually they would hit the path back to Buttermere. They were really grateful. God knows what they’d have done if they hadn’t met us on Starling Dodd?

From the Dodd we walked back with them a little as our route and theirs went in the same direction. We took leave of them at our junction where Dad repeated his directions and wished them luck. The descent into Ennerdale was much shallower than the way up Herdus and as we drew closer to the lake shore we discovered where all the people were. They were down at the lower levels, having an easy stroll round the lake or simply out for a picnic. There were hordes of them. Quite a startling contrast to the fell top we’d just been on. Back at the car park Dad inspected my cut again and declared that I would live. He kissed my forehead and called me a stubborn baggage!

Driving back on the winding, twisty road to Cockermouth started to give me a bit of a headache. It had started to pound when we got to Tallentire. So I took some ibuprofen and went and sprawled out in the conservatory. Doctor Dad came and inspected his wounded soldier and seemed happy that it was OK. I have to tell him at the first sign of dizziness or sickness. Tell him? I’ll be bloody screaming it from the rooftops!

On my tablet I found some brilliant news. Fremantle had beaten second placed Geelong in their first match of the finals which meant they were through to the actual semi-final stage of the competition. Geelong have to play another game in order to reach the same place as Freo. I am not quite sure how the route to the final actually works as it has always seemed really complicated but I found a graphic on the AFL website which made the whole thing seem clear as crystal.

That makes it all so much understandable, doesn’t it?

After dinner we watched some more of the White Queen until I felt myself nodding off. Once episode five had finished we made our excuses and headed up the wooden hills to Bedfordshire. Loll was quite solicitous and asked me several times if I was sure I was alright. I told her I was and would prove it to her once we were in bed. I did. I fell fast asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Some proof, eh?

Monday September 9^th.

The headache had gone when I woke up this morning. My libido hadn’t though, so after letting Callie and the other dogs out on to the garden I proved to Laura that I was alright. Taking a shower was another matter. The cut is right on my hair line at the side of my forehead and I couldn’t for the life of me think of a way of washing my hair without getting it wet. Laura simply said, “Well don’t wash it for once. It’ll not hurt.” Not wash my hair? Can she be serious? She was. She disappeared and came back with a shower cap! After about five minutes trying different ways of tying back my hair so it didn’t pull the cut and would fit in the shower cap, she finally let me get into the shower. She stayed in the en-suite to make sure I didn’t attempt any hair washing. I asked if her SS uniform was still in the wardrobe, she reached in and switched the regulator over onto cold! The bitch! She did towel me dry to make up for it. [That just made me wet somewhere else!]

After breakfast I drove Loll to work and then came back to check my e-mails. My supervisor had read my notes and was impressed. They were exactly what she was expecting. She suggested a couple of tweaks and said she didn’t need to see any more until those ones had been delivered. That was good, wasn’t it?

I spent the morning doing more work on the lecture schedule. I have done another three sets of notes etc. Feeling very pleased with myself I took the dogs out up Tallentire Hill. We went right up to the trig point which has one of the most wonderful, unknown, views of the Lake District. I must’ve been at the top for about twenty minutes completely entranced by the vista spread before me. Callie and Dad’s trio kept themselves amused playing some sort of doggy tag game which consisted of them running at one of the other dogs who jumped out of the way at the last minute. It seemed like they knew what they were doing but that could have been anthropomorphism on my part to be honest.

I continued with my lecture note compilation this arvo, too. Dad and Louisa had driven off somewhere by the time I got back. I wasn’t quite sure where. They did shout something before I took off with the dogs but it was a bit too garbled to hear from the garden. As they weren’t back I knocked up a ham and chive omelette for my lunch and prepped a load of veggies for whatever the night’s dinner was going to be.

I had a couple of e-mails from Oz. Another apologetic one from Mad Nad, I must get around to answering one of those soon. There was an excited one from Annabelle all about the Dockers. They’d watched the game on TV on Saturday and she was extremely animated about the game and the fact they were only two games away from the grand final! She asked me if I had found her three notes. [Three notes?] I have to confess to finding only two, I will have to take a closer look at my stuff – although most of it is down in Sheffield. I e-mailed back telling her that I’d Skype everyone tomorrow. I arranged to do it so I will be calling at about 6pm their time. There was a third e-mail from Oz. Mum had actually put finger to key and told me what she’d been up to since I left. Almost nothing it seems. Without her trusty guide-daughter to take her places she’d sat and vegetated!

There was no sign of the Aged Parent by 3.30 so I wandered kitchen wards and examined the fridge and larder. In the larder, on the shelf was a Venison joint. I toyed with the idea of cooking that for tea but reasoned that Dad may have wanted it for a special occasion this week or was planning on having it cooked in a special way. So I raided the freezer, grabbed some smoked haddock, some coleys, two really large mackerel and a piece of salmon and set about making a fish pie. I poached the fish and then flaked off all the flesh [I kept the skins for the dogs]. While the fish had been poaching I peeled a huge pan of potatoes and set those to boil. After sorting out the fish I made up a white sauce for the pie but created enough so that I could zing the rest up with some chili and spices as a hot accompaniment for the pie as well.

I made the pie in a large pyrex dish and inserted a mackerel tail and head into the potato topping. I had sculptured the potato into a fish shape leaving space for the real head and tail. The potato around the fish shape I swirled up with a fork to make it look like sea. I made bundles of the prepped veggies from this morning ready to be boiled apart from the courgettes which I sliced and seasoned so they could be grilled. I was so busy I almost forgot I had to drive to Wigton to fetch Laura. I am afraid to say my little Kia was quite naughty and broke the speed limit nearly all the way to Loll’s work. [It did slow down through Aspatria – which proved a good call as the mobile police speed camera was parked just outside Bouch’s shop! Phew!]

When we got back there was a message on the answer machine. “We’re in Lancaster! We’ll be staying at the flat tonight. Could you take care of the dogs, please? Oh, don’t touch the venison in larder. It’s Errol’s. We should be back at about tea-time tomorrow. Is your mobile turned off? Byeee”

I checked. It wasn’t turned off but was set to silent! There were two voice mails, the first one telling me to answer my bloody phone you dozy daughter. The second was almost identical to the one on the home phone. Laura went round to her house to see if they’d eaten. They hadn’t, I went across with the fish pie and veggies and we had our tea there. Eric kept saying, “Have you made this?” and “I can’t believe you made this?” I don’t know what he was expecting. I think I may have made him reassess Professor Jay’s youngest daughter a bit. Molly wasn’t surprised at all. She knows I can cook because she has watched me at Dad’s when she’s been there cleaning. The darling creature then went on with, “Who do you think makes that wonderful Lemon Meringue Pie I sometimes bring back from John’s? Not the Prof, surely?” [John is my Dad’s name: John Timothy Christopher.]

I remembered that there was one in the freezer, which I’d made before I went to Australia [unless Dad and Louisa had eaten it!] I asked if they wanted me to fetch it. They said they were too full. I am not surprised, we had cleared the lot. I had made enough to leave some for lunch the day after for me and as a pack up for Loll to re-heat in the firm’s microwave. It all went. No waste.

After dinner we sat in their lounge and Eric asked what I had done to my head. So we recounted the tale of a stroppy daughter refusing to turn back even though she was obviously injured. Eric said, “We have one of those too!” I wasn’t sure if he meant Laura or one of her two older sisters. I decided it was better not to ask. Laura simply kept quiet and blushed.

We got to talking about what I’d been doing in Australia. Loll’s folks didn’t know my Mum had joined me out there when her term had finished. They seemed a little surprised that I would want to go places with her and show her round. Molly was Mum and Dad’s cleaner when the house was our [smaller] holiday home. I don’t think they have met at all since the divorce. I wonder if they think I have divorced Mum too because I spend such a lot of time at my Dad’s? They enjoyed hearing about the whales and the dolphins and the wine tasting, and… well, just about everything I could tell them. Laura then announced that she and I were going out at the end of the next academic year. They found that a bit of a surprise. Stephen, her kid brother [13] asked if we could smuggle him there too in our luggage?

It was a pleasant evening with Loll’s folks. Even Eric was amiable and not given to making any snide comments, which he has been known to do in the recent past! [He seemed to think I had corrupted his daughter – I wonder if he knows the “real” truth? She was the one who came on to me, I was ignorant of her feelings for me until she declared them just after she started University.] We strolled back to find there was a bit of a mess at home. It looked like the dogs had been playing their tag game inside the house – I hadn’t put them in the kennel while we were out. There were chairs knocked over; the water bowl upside down and a large puddle on the floor; furniture shifted about and one lounge cushion complete shredded! Laura thought it was very funny. I was just annoyed.

 

Tuesday 10^th Sept.

I finally removed the plaster from my forehead this morning and found a grotty looking scab had formed making a horrible brown line down the side of my face. I was tempted to pick it off but Laura slapped my wrist, quite hard, and told me to leave it alone. She is of the opinion it is more likely to leave a scar if I pick it off than if I leave it fall off naturally. I was hoping to wash my hair this morning as it was beginning to bother me. I found some waterproof patch plasters in the medicine cabinet in D & L’s en-suite so I tried putting one of those on before getting into the shower. I was able to wash my hair fairly successfully and as a treat Loll blow dried it and brushed it for me.  A reward for being a good girl.

I drove into Wigton and then zoomed off into Carlisle. I was going to Bookends to see if they had any old books in there about Winchester and the Cathedral. [It’s a huge second hand book shop between the castle and cathedral.] They had one slim volume published originally in 1953 so I bought that. The bookshop has added a coffee shop to its premises so I went and had a cuppa after my purchase. A bloody guy came and asked if he could join me. Why does this keep happening to me? It is so tedious. I told him he could if he wanted but I was waiting for my boyfriend and I hoped he could stand the sight of blood. He went and sat somewhere else. I ate a really cute chocolate chip muffin, shaped like a hedgehog with chocolate spikes sticking out of it, with my tea. When I finished I got up and left, walking past the drongo who’d wanted to join me I cheerfully told him, “I lied!”

Callie and Dad’s dogs looked down in the dumps in their kennel when I got back, so I swapped cars [taking Dad’s old Landrover] and drove to Isel. From there I took them the back way up to Watch Hill and Setmurthy Common and they had a really good romp around. The north western fells looked particularly clear and I decided if the weather was good in the morning I would take the pack into the Lakes and climb Hobcarton Crag. Now I have made a decision I bet it will rain! There wasn’t a soul about on the common, this is not unusual, it being a school day and a week day as well. We didn’t encounter anyone going through the woods either. I could have been the only person on the planet.

From the edge of the ridge, looking down into the Derwent Valley you can see Isel Hall. It looked like it had been painted pink! I mean bright, candyfloss pink! I decided I would ask Dad about it when he and Louisa got back from Lancaster. He vaguely knows the owner so he might be able to tell me if I was hallucinating or not. I’d driven to Isel through Bridekirk ,Redmain and Blindcrake, I went back the long way through Cockermouth. I just enjoy the drive through this town. If I am ever in a position to live in Cumbria, this is where I would choose to live.

When I got back to Dad’s I was ravenous, so I made myself one of my mega BLTs. {OK, I am lying – I made two}. I used a full packet of bacon. As I was finishing off the last morsel of my BLT, in walked the Aged Parent and Louisa. They could smell the bacon and asked if there was any left, so I did a second batch of BLTs just for them. I told Dad about the cushion. He thought it was funny too.

Isel Hall’s Pele Tower has been painted pink! I wasn’t hallucinating. Miss Burkett, who owns it used to be in charge of Abbott Hall Museum in Kendal and may be someone worth getting to know. Dad told me that the house is open on Monday afternoons only, until October. I guess that’s where I’ll be next Monday then! Dad seemed to think she may be a bit eccentric.

I collected the Lollster from Wigton and told her about my day. She has never heard of Isel Hall and she’s a bloody local! Still, she hadn’t been up any Lake District Fells either. It must be something that the locals do, avoiding the touristy bits!

Dad lied. Errol’s venison is Dad’s venison. It was actually Errol’s road kill: he had whacked it with his 4x4 at the weekend. Errol had phoned Dad to come and pick up it up. This is the legal way to get the meat you’ve hit on the road. Dad took it to a butcher in Maryport and he and Errol divided the meat between them. What a pair of crooks, eh?

The venison, en croute, was tonight’s dinner - courtesy of Louisa. It was really good. We even broke out a couple of bottle of Dornfelder to go with it. Rah, rah and indeed rah! It started raining at about nine o’clock. Looks like tomorrow’s walk could be a washout! Needless to say I didn’t go very far up the road to Tallentire Hill with the dogs tonight.

 

Wednesday September 11^th.

Rain, rain, rain, rain and rain!

Boo Hoo. So much for Hobcarton Crag.  Look out sofa, here comes Maia’s bum and a book!

E-mail event horizon this morning after I had taken Laura to Wigton. I had 25 e-mails that were real, personal jobbies, not imprecations to enlarge my penis! Several from Australia; a few from UK friends and acquaintances; a couple from Uni; one from Mrs Briggs and one from Scottish Gran! Scottish Gran! I almost fell off the sofa in surprise. Even more so when I read that she’d heard on the grapevine that my Dad’s new floozy was pregnant! Trust her to get hold of the wrong end of the stick. I decided it was easier to call her and speak to her in person than try to explain in an e-mail. Plus in the time it takes to write one you can say so much more. She was so pleased to hear my voice. We had a long old gossip and I put her mind at rest about Dad’s new floozy. She asked if I wanted to come over for a couple of days [that is unusual] so naturally I said, “Yes.” I have to get brownie points back with her as she hates the idea of me and Laura. If I can build a bridge of two it is worth a try. I told her I’d be there at lunchtime and we’d go out for a bite to eat when I got there.

I informed Dad & Louisa what was going on and then dropped in at Laura’s in Wigton to explain to Loll how I had been invited to Hawick so I was going across to try and get Gran to love me again! I said I’d be back on Friday [that may be optimistic if Gran and I have another famous fall out]. Callie seemed surprised to be taken away from her pals but she will enjoy the Border Hills.

Gran’s house is on a south facing slope on the north side of the town. It looks over the old stone buildings and disused mill chimneys that are dotted along the river valley. She is one of five children and she herself had three. Only Uncle Chris lives locally, the others have moved away. Mum is the farthest away in Sheffield, Aunt Ailsa is somewhere near Aberdeen working in the support service for the oil industry. I have masses of cousins scattered around the length and breadth of Scotland.

She always wants me to call her Moira, but I just can’t make myself do it. She is Gran and always will be. Her house is like mine – absolutely spotless with not a thing out of place and no dust anywhere. I asked again if she was sure it was OK for me to stay over and she responded by taking me up to the spare bedroom to dump my holdall. She asked what on earth I had done to my head, so I told her all about Dad’s dog knocking backwards on Herdus. I was expecting an “Well, it may have knocked some sense into you…” but she was really sympathetic. Have aliens abducted my Gran and replaced her with one who is simply following the Gran stereotype image?

There used to be a brilliant café in town where we always went as nippers when we came to stay , it’s still there and we went and I treated her to lunch. We then toddled off to Morrisons’ where I bought us a salmon for dinner. I know she likes fish and I thought it would be a treat.

After dumping our groceries in my car, we went down to the riverside and strolled up stream through the park, past the museum and café and had a long chat about life the universe and everything. I explained again it was Jane who was having the baby, not Louisa. She told me she hadn’t seen Phil and Jane up in Hawick for years, that made me feel a bit guilty too because I hadn’t been here much since I came back from Oz in 2010. Richard and I stayed with her a few times and she really, really liked him. I have seen her at Mum’s house when she has been down to stay, that used to be during school holidays, I suppose all of that will change now that Mum is retired. However, she did ask “How is that wee lassie of yourn?” I couldn’t believe it. So I talked about Laura and how she was moving in with me and changing University too, so she could be with me. She told me that Helen [Mum] thought Laura was a lovely soul and that maybe she [Gran] had been a bit harsh when we had our row at Mum’s earlier on. She then said, “Shut your mouth dear. It makes you look stupid!” If it wasn’t for the fact I might have done her some harm I would have picked her up and swung her round like I do with niece Annabelle, when I am feeling happy.

She sat and watched me cook the tea, from a stool by the breakfast bar in her kitchen. We were alright again. And I hadn’t had to do anything to get her to see things my way. She had simply accepted the fait accompli. I can’t explain how wonderful this is. She didn’t want the fish head left on the salmon, so I boiled it up to put with Callie’s sup sup. While I was cooking I showed her how to use my tablet and she spent ages looking at the photographs and two videos from Australia. She was surprised at how beautiful Safety Bay, Shoalwater and Rockingham looked on my wobbly video. She thought her Great Grandchildren’s commentary was funny and went all wistful as she told me she had never ever seen Jeffrey in the flesh at all; Jill was a toddler and Annabelle a babe in arms when they left for Oz. She has seen them on video calls at Mum’s and on Phil’s computer when he, Jane and the kids have called but she would like to meet them.

I told her she ought to bite the bullet and fly out. She isn’t short of a bob or two and business class is so luxurious really. I know Suze would love to see her again.  She thought about this and said she’d consider it.

Tea was pretty good and dessert was one of her home made rice puddings. She’d made it yesterday and there was half left in the fridge. Not for long! She then said that some of her cronies might call round later and sure enough at 7pm, on the dot, a gaggle of chattering women turned up to do some sewing. They had all brought some pieces of work with them and they were keen to spot their friend’s “clever” grand-daughter. It was really tranquil sitting amongst these old biddies as they chattered away as they did their sewing.

I was drafted in as chief tea maker and cake distributor. They wanted to know all about me and what I was doing. I have to say it took a while to get my “ear” as a couple of them had accents which I could hardly decipher at all. Gran got me to put the photographs on slide show mode on my tablet so they could all have a look at her wains across the water. They loved the car trip video and when I told them about the West Australian weather they all decided they ought to go and live there to avoid the dreich weather of the Borders. [I think I have spelt dreich correctly.]

The oldest woman there was in her nineties and they had a lamb with them, she was a white haired lady who was 66! A positive baby. They asked me if I was skilled with the needle and I had to admit I had done some in the past. I have done a bit of stump work and some Ruskin Lace embroidery. They knew what stump work was but none of them had heard of Ruskin Lace. One of them asked which hospital I’d be working in when I was qualified and she received the Smith scorn from Gran. That’s where I get it from.

Dreich was right, as the ladies all made their way home at about 9.30pm I took Callie out for her last walk. I got absolutely soaked! So did Callie. I hadn’t thought to bring my riding coat and had just my cheapo waterproof, which kept my top half relatively dry but as it only came down to my bum my skirt, legs, shoes and even my knickers were wringing wet. She may be old, but she isn’t old fashioned – Gran has a brilliant walk in shower cubicle [it was where I got the idea for mine at home, TBH] so I had a good old splash about in there before hitting the charp. I sat up in bed for a while Skyping Loll. She was amused by me being in a coven of sewing old women, eating cake and drinking tea. I told her if it was nice tomorrow I was going to Trimontium {Melrose} to climb the three peaks there. Her news was that the owner of the firm had offered her a full time job there any time she wanted. Apparently the lady she was working with is scheduled to retire at Christmas and if Laura wanted the job as the desk manager, it was hers. Ever the politician she told him she would have to think about it!

Thursday 12^th September.

We went to Melrose. It’s just down the way a bit. Gran used the opportunity to visit one of her chums for the morning and I took the pup up Trimontium. They are actually called the Eildon Hills and, yes there are three of them. They look really spectacular as you drive north towards them, from the north driving down they look even better. From the town I climbed the right hand one first and then walked across the ridges to the other two descending from the left hand one and arriving back in the town by the ruins of Melrose Abbey. I was expecting to be alone but there were quite a few people out and about. I was the only dog owner though. As it has been fairly dry in the borders for a while [which is unusual] the ground underfoot was pretty dry. There was part of the path on the way down from the last fell which was dried mud. I imagine if it’s wet that will just become a quagmire!

What I wasn’t prepared for was how windy it was, especially on the western-most summit. It was so strong you had to hide behind the summit cairn or else you’d be blown off your feet [well, I would!]. The view north was a jumbled bundle of rounded peaks leading up towards Galashiels but to the south it swept across the Tweed Valley and was magnificent. You could make out several of the hill top monuments further south towards Jedburgh. The Scots do seem keen to place monuments on hill tops, far more than the English for some reason.

I was quite surprised by the fact the whole circuit took just under two hours! It obviously wasn’t as high or difficult as it looked. As I had an hour to kill before going to fetch Gran I went into the little Museum they have in the town square. It is a gem of a museum. It is devoted mainly to the Roman occupation of the area and has masses of finds on display. Most of these were from the site of Trimontium Fort to the East of the town. The guide said the field in which the fort was found was very unrevealing to the naked eye and not really worth visiting. He was right. We paid a visit on the way to Jedburgh, where Gran wanted to go to the local fabric shop. She was buying some more material for a quilt she is making and this shop is the best one around, for miles.

There was even a woman and her husband in there from Lincolnshire [they were on holiday] and she’d come to buy fabric. The husband and I hit it off immediately as in the back of their car were two weimaraners! He was going to take them for a stroll while his wife shopped. I joined him as we walked along the river side into the town proper. His two girls were a bit wary of Callie at first but they soon seemed to establish a pecking order and everything was fine. They were retired school teachers from Lincolnshire who travel the countryside looking at Abbeys and Cathedrals. They were actually doing the eastern Border Abbeys during the week.

Back at the shop Gran had bought her material and was chatting to the wife of the duo. It seems fellow sewers have masses to talk about, so we all had a cup of tea in the shop’s café. Is sewers the right word there? It looks so wrong, doesn’t it?

Across the road were a couple of those touristy Mill Shops that abound in Scotland waiting to trap the toruists’ money like bricks and mortar highway robbers. We didn’t go in. Oh come on! Do I want a kilt?

She knew a place in Newton St Boswell’s where we could get an afternoon tea, so that’s where we went next. It was a real pukka, afternoon tea. We were given a three tier cake stand: the bottom one was full of small sandwiches with their crusts removed. Smoked ham, egg mayonnaise and salmon (again); the middle tier had four scones a pot of butter, jam and clotted cream and the top tier had a selection of petit-fours. All of this was served with an endlessly refillable pot of tea for £7.50 per person! I was a bit sceptical of her idea at first but it was brilliant. I mean absolutely brilliant. The whole idea was invented by the Duchess of Bedford [I think] to tide her over the long stretch from luncheon to dinner. The toffs didn’t used to dine in the evening much before 8pm! I didn’t actually want an evening meal after all this!

Whilst sitting in the café / tea room one of Gran’s other cronies came in, saw us sitting there and made a bee-line to us. She wanted to know who I was [only natural I suppose] and then seemed a bit miffed that Gran would be missing her bowls that evening. “No I won’t, Vic is driving me and coming to watch.” This was news to me.  The bowling friends and the sewing friends make two distinct groups in Gran’s life who don’t ever meet. The bowlers don’t sew and apart from Gran the sewers don’t bowl.

I will not make fun of bowls again. It is much harder than it looks! Gran let me have a go whilst waiting for the others to arrive. Like her they were dressed in whites and all of them had their own bowls. I suppose it is good for them to keep active in to their later years. I doubt if Gran could cope with any serious fell walking at her age. Once again I had to endure their collective scrutiny and field off lots of questions. There were also some undecipherable accents in this group of ladies too! The weather had closed in again and on the way to the bowls club I was thinking, “This is silly, we’re all going to get soaked!” Ha ha ha! It was an indoor club! They bowl along a special kind of mat instead of grass. I suppose that the Borders are one of the wettest places in the UK for rainfall, so it makes sense to have an indoor club. [Eskdalemuir has the highest rainfall of any place in the UK!]

I didn’t get as drenched walking Callie tonight, but I felt a totally drongo walking my dog and carrying an umbrella! [Oh, Gran’s team lost. I don’t know by how many.]

Skyped Laura before going to sleep. She can’t wait for me to get back. I also had a whole slew of e-mails. Mostly junk but one or two really cute ones from Annabelle. Plus Mad Nad has invited me to go and stay with her in Derry especially if I can fit in a visit before their year as “UK City of Culture” comes to an end! She really does want to apologise, doesn’t she? I guess it’s her good Catholic upbringing coming to the fore. Although the Catholic Church is responsible for The Malleus Malificarum!