Three generations dining out.

Friday 2^nd January

The warm contented glow continues this morning. I am sort of bursting with a desire to shout it out from the rooftops. I told Laura this and she said she felt the same and did we really want to wait until June? Sitting down to breakfast, after walking the dogs up Tall Hill together, we looked at the pros and cons of announcing now. There are a lot of pros, equally there are a lot of cons. We have decided to wait until after the holiday period was over, in the first instance, and then have another pro and con session.

Mum and Gran arrived at about 12. Mum was full of annoyance at the road works all along the A7 where they are reinstating the Edinburgh to Carlisle railway line. It will be brilliant to go for a day trip from Cumbria to Edinburgh direct. I can’t wait until it opens. I’m so excited about it! That’s two things already this year.

We had a swift snack for lunch and then took the Parent and Parent’s Parent into Cockermouth. I parked up outside Harris Park and we walked through the park, with Callie, down to the river and then along Rubbybanks Lane into town. It is a lovely little town, Cockermouth, and it feels vibrant and fresh. There are no run down, grotty bits at all! Callie and I walk through it regularly, and she is used to being tied up outside shops on the Main Street, and today was no exception. We went into several clothes shops and arty-farty, knick-knack shops and the National Trust shop.

Mum was amazed by the change to Lowther Went. She remembers the Wilko store building being part of a grocery chain called Walter Wilson’s. That is way before my time. Although, apparently it isn’t. WW’s was still there when I was a little girl, I just don’t remember it. Mum thinks it changed in about 1996. They were both gobsmacked by the height of the flood marker on the Globe Inn’s wall. It is about a foot higher than the top of my head and I’m 5’ 7”. Gran asked what the Spice Club restaurant was like, she loves a curry. I told her it was brilliant. Indigo used to be the best one in the town but that closed after the floods, I think. Anyway, we went in and booked a table for four for Saturday night. We were lucky to be squeezed in, but as we had asked for an early slot that was fine. We would have to vacate our table by 9pm.

The stroll up Station Street and back around to the car was a bit of a pull for Gran, but she managed it quite well and wasn’t too out of puff. Mum is impressed with Dad’s tank (VW Passat estate) but thinks it would be far too big for her. I have got used to it now, apart from having to press a button to switch the engine on. That seems totally mad to me. I am considering driving us down to Sheffield in it on Tuesday just to avoid putting extra miles on my car; is that naughty? I probably won’t.

Back home we had another cuppa and gossip until the evening meal was ready, cottage pie with cabbage and petits-pois. Yummy in my tummy. For dessert we had some of the apple cake Dad had left in his freezer. I always write a label for stuff I put in his freezer otherwise it just festers there (or it used to, Louisa is quite good at not abandoning stuff inside it). This one was made in mid-October so would be good for another three months. Not with four gannets like us though. Gran liked it and wondered where I had got the recipe. (It is one of hers, TBH.)

We had a relaxing evening watching Gran’s choice of TV programmes. She is a bit addicted, I think. I suppose it’s her age. We planned a stroll along the harbour walls and pier in Maryport tomorrow if the weather holds. I will treat everyone to a cuppa at the Aquarium too, aren’t I the generous one?

In bed after walking the dogs Loll and I had a comforting snuggle which led to the inevitable. Mum and Gran are not on our staircase so we could make as much noise as we wanted but we stifled our emotional outbursts, just in case…

Saturday 3^rd Jan.

Bloody cold this morning. I banked up the wood burner and fired it up to add to the central heating. When we got back from walking the pups up the hill the lounge was like toast and Gran was looking admiringly at the cast iron box. She said she thought one would be good at her house. I agreed, especially as it can get really cold in Hawick. Which is surprising as it nestles snugly in the Border Hills, away from nasty blasts of wind and the like. I guess it is all down to latitude. When we lived in Norwich our winters were usually very mild. It was as though we had our own private weather system.

The decision to walk the hounds at Maryport was agreed and we drove off (in Dad’s tank again – it and the Land Rover are the only vehicles which will take all four dogs). We parked at the Flimby end of the path and strolled northwards up to the huge red sandstone harbour wall. Walking along the top of that Gran thought Maryport looked quite nice. I hadn’t the heart to tell her parts of it are a University of Crime and others are Benefits Street personified. The area round the dock, harbour and marina are lovely, though, and look very tasteful. Mum also knows these facts about Maryport but she kept schtum too.

The plus points this morning were the harbour area looked really attractive and Gran was impressed by the size and scale of the whole development. She also thought the new housing along by the harbour was really attractive. I have to agree with her, I does look really well designed and well thought out. The only minus point was that the Aquarium wasn’t open, which meant no café and no cuppa! I did explain about the Roman Museum, so after getting back to the car I drove us round the harbour, up the hill and we parked up at the museum. It was open.

We had a cuppa first from the vending machine and then bought a ticket each to wander round the Roman artefacts discovered here during the previous centuries. It had to be the biggest collection of Roman items outside London. There are masses and masses of antiquities in there. The biggest items are Roman head stones from a cemetery that was uncovered. Lots are as pristine as those in the big museum in Rome, which makes the inscriptions really easy to read (if your Latin is up to it). What was really surprising is the number which were bought by ordinary legionnaires, not by the equestrian classes or the elite of the society.

We took double the time in the museum than we had on the walk and Gran was even more impressed by Maryport afterwards. If the place had the funds, they would love to excavate and expose the actual Alauna Roman Camp – which is right outside the museum’s door – to a permanent display, like the ones on the ‘wall’ itself. Funding doesn’t really allow for that. There is also the University of crime element to consider, sadly. The youth of the town are known for their mindless vandalism, so there is a huge risk it wouldn’t be safe at all. The scumbags have already forced the closure of the toilets on the prom with their moronic behaviour.

In fact Mum recalled how, some years ago, a gang of the feral, bastard children, placed a stone over the chimney-pot of a local man who had tried to tell some of them off for their unacceptable behaviour and the build-up of fumes in the house killed him! All of Ewanrigg knew who these little twats were but (Mum seems to remember) none of them were brought to justice. It goes to show that scum live in the countryside and small towns as much as in big cities.

Cockermouth always seems relatively scum free, as far as its population goes. We had a great meal at the Spice Club. We ordered a different main course each, which we left in the middle of the table and shared. I eschewed my usual Jalfrezi and had a Dansak instead. Gran ordered something (the name of which I disremember) that blew our heads off! As we’d booked an early table we were finished well before 9pm. Walking back to the car, Gran was surprised by the number of young people walking about with hardly any sensible clothes on. Teenage girls, especially, prancing around in buttock skimming dresses and no coats to protect against the elements. She was a bit shocked. I had to tell her it was a common feature across the country. It happens in Sheffield, it happened in both Norwich and Cambridge too, from what I can remember. Mum backed up my claim, telling her she bet that Hawick was the same as well. Gran was reluctant to believe it.

Our busy day had made the Parent’s Parent a bit whacked and she hit the charp straight after a swift nightcap of Malt Whisky. Mum wasn’t too long behind her in climbing the wooden hills to bed-ford-shire. Laura and I snugged on the sofa, like we often do at home. It was a wrench to have to walk the dogs, but they seemed content with a run out in the paddock.

It was a really good day.

Sunday 4^th January.

More grotty weather. Well, it is Cumbria, so what do you expect? We looked at the unappealing climatic conditions and decided that staying put was a good idea. This got hit on the head after a call from Molly asking if we fancied lunch at the Stag in Crosby. Did we? Of course we did.

We met inside the pub as we’d gone in two cars. Dad’s tank is big but he didn’t opt for the three rows of seats version as he wanted boot space for his three dogs, otherwise we’d have taken everyone. Each of us had variations on the roast dinner, with Gran, who claims to have the appetite of a bird, ordering the three meat roast. I stuck to roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. We gorged ourselves on the good wholesome fare but cannily left room for dessert. The sticky toffee pudding was ordered by everyone but me and Stephen; we both had the hot chocolate fudge cake with local ice cream. Yummy in everyone’s tummy.

After the meal we decamped back to Dad’s and I played the hostess for the afternoon. Molly, Eric and Stephen seems to show no signs of going home as the afternoon wore on, so I rustled up a cold collation with the rest of the cold meat we had, and the pork pie, sausage rolls and various salads. I’d set some baby new potatoes to cook while I was doing all this and boiled a few eggs too. We scoffed ourselves into a stupor again.

After a suitable pause I offered desserts but everyone declined. Thank goodness! Any more food and I would have done a Mr Creosote after his last “wafer thin mint”! We sprawled in Dad’s lounge, Laura and I snuggled on one sofa, Gran and Mum on the other with the chairs filled by Eric and Molly. We made Stephen play at the waiter and he served us drinks. We gossiped and giggled, reminisced and chatted and had a really pleasant evening. The Thomases (sans Laura, of course) headed off at about 9pm, so I followed them through the village with the wolf-pack, and then on up Tall Hill. I went all the way up to the seat and sat on it, reflecting on how lucky I was with my life, really.

My luck didn’t last, though, half way down the hill again the heavens opened and by the time we got back to Dad’s I and the dogs were soaked! Loll came to help dry off the woofies and then she offered to dry me off too, after I’d had my shower. There was an offer I couldn’t refuse. It is strange how, when someone else dries you off it makes you wetter!

Dreaming about sex, except it wasn't a dream!

Monday December 29^th

Today we spent a fairly quiet day, pottering about. I took the dogs to Crummockwater, Loll went to help her Mum doing some work at the caravan site cleaning a couple of statics for New Year’s Even guests. It is one of Molly’s permanent jobs, like her cleaning for Dad. She has about a dozen clients in the area and as she charges £12 per hour, she makes a good living out of it.

After all the excitement of Christmas, having meals out and feeding people it was good to just chill out with no pressure or tasks to do. We just vegetated for the day but spent the afternoon indulging our passion for each other.

Once we had recovered I introduced the Lollster to a couple of films I really like: Bienvenue Chez les Ch’Tis and Lan Grande Vaudrouille. She thought they were charming, and silly, and totally unlike anything you see from Hollywood.

Tuesday 30^th December

It couldn’t last. This morning having spent Monday doing virtually nothing I decided I simply had to clean my room and en-suite. I ended up not only cleaning but rearranging everything in the room. I used to do this a lot asd a child. I’ve moved the day bed to under the south facing skylight window, I put the bed on the opposite wall, so I have a view to the Solway straight through the north dormer window. I was able to get one the chests of drawers between my walk in robe door and the en-suite door but I have to find a longer piece of co-ax cable to reach the aerial socket for my TV, DVD player and PVR, which live on top of it and in the top drawer respectively.

The biggest task was moving my two book cases and cleaning the books. They have got so dusty it’s unreal. I clean every time I am at Dad’s and I know Molly gives the room a quick dust and vac on her days for Dad so I must have forgotten to clean the bookshelves! I also decided that they needed a back on them, so that the books weren’t just pressed up against the wall.

I measured up carefully, and taking Dad’s new tank, we drove into Workington to the big B & Q to buy some hardboard with wood grain pattern on the smooth side and some co-axial cable. The dogs looked really miffed that we drove off and left them in their kennel. I promised to take them to the beach when we got back. Do dogs understand promises?

In Workington we shopped at Nubian (B & Q) and then went into town for a swift stroll through the shops and a cuppa in Debenham’s café (it has brilliant views out over the River Derwent). There was deal on Thierry Mugler’s Angel so I restocked on one of my favourite smellies and we spend a while in the clothes department.

Back at the ranch, I set to with Dad’s jig saw and cut the hardboard to shape. I then pinned it carefully to the back of each bookcase, I used over 50 panel pins for each bookcase, but the hardboard certainly won’t come away in hurry. Where the two pieces of board abutted, I ran a strip of Dad’s waterproof fabric tape over the joins. This is marvellous stuff, even better than gaffer tape.

We then spent a good forty minutes reorganising the order of the books on the shelves by author. (Something I hadn’t done up here – I have at home, but then I have about ten times as many books at home than here) The DVD shelves proved tricky as I couldn’t decide how to arrange then, in the end, even though I don’t like doing it, I arranged them by title. Laura thought my previous method (by Director’s name) was a bit anal! She may have been right!

The dogs’ patience was rewarded with a romp along Maryport prom, from the dockside, right down to the end (by the golf course) and back up the hill to the Roman Museum and then down the zig zaggy steps to Wallace Lane from the old town. It kept spitting with rain but we didn’t get too damp. A bonus was getting a hot chocolate drink from the Roman Museum as we passed – I often do this when I walk the dogs here. It is really tasty drinking chocolate.

Wednesday 31^st December.

The New Years’ Eve party was in Cockermouth, along Henry Street. I have driven along Henry Street to the ‘new’ housing estate which backs up to the by-pass, never really paying much attention to the older rows of terraced houses on Henry Street. I had assumed they were a bit like mine, simple two up two downs with an attic. Mike P’s house was a three storey property that just seemed to go on and on out the back.

Mike was in Laura’s class for most of her time at school and is a loyal friend. He did carry a torch for her for a while but, of course, nothing came of it. He didn’t know she was a lesbian back then [nobody did – as part of a self-preservation instinct Laura had] but he does now. We have met a few times and on the first occasion he subjected me to a quite severe grilling to make sure I was just dallying with Laura’s affections in order to have her and then dump her. [She obviously hadn’t explained how our relationship started and I decided it wasn’t up to me to tell him.] However, I must have passed the test as we were both invited to the New Year’s Party and he introduced us to his parents (he still lives with his parents) as Laura and her Girlfriend Victoria.

It was an across the ages party, with guests invited by each of the family members, so there were grannies all the way through to little children. As such it had the feel of a comfortable, safe event. There was a room just stuffed with food and Mike’s father had bought a barrel of beer from Yates brewery (West Newton), we didn’t try the beer, naturally. We took a couple of bottles from Dad’s wine rack and I brought along some Pomegranate and Elderflower cordial as I was driving tonight.

I just introduced myself (or was introduced) as Laura’s friend from University and most people seemed happy with that. I did get quizzed about what I was doing, but you could tell a lot of people hadn’t a clue what a PhD was and they adopted that stunned look when I tried to explain. Mike’s Mother is an embroiderer though, so we had a long chat about all thing stitch related and she told me all about Higham Hall and the courses it runs in various types of embroidery. I have driven past it many times on the way to the Back O’ Skiddaw fells, but I had no idea that it was an independent, residential, adult education college. It runs a massive selection of courses and even does Ruskin Lace. I have been teaching myself using a book I bought written by a woman called Elizabeth Prickett. It seems she used to teach classes doing this technique at the hall. She has retired now, but one of her former pupils now teaches the classes.

Pandora (Mike’s mum) goes as a day student rather than having a room there (Cockermouth is only four miles away, so it seems silly). For her money she gets a meal on Friday night, two on Saturday and one on Sunday. They work until 10pm on the first two days and then to lunch-time on the Sunday. This costs her about £120 for the weekend. If she was residential it would be about £170. This sounds like a remarkable deal. She found me out last term’s brochure, which I put in my bag to peruse at leisure at home.

I showed her some photo’s (on my phone) of things which I had made and she was fascinated by the Japanese thimbles I have started to sew. I may have made a friend there.

At the witching hour [or just before] we all were invited to prime our glasses and Anthony (Mike’s Father) turned their hi-fi radio on to listen for the countdown to midnight. There was some music leading up to the bongs and then everyone clinked glasses and went around wishing each other a happy New Year. I was kissed quite a few times and so was Laura, I noticed. As the whole throng trooped out into the long, long back garden for the fireworks I grabbed Loll’s arm and held her back. I gave her a proper kiss in the kitchen and told her that I loved her so much. She said that she loved me more. We then went on like little kids exaggerating how much we loved each other. Pandora had witnessed this, unknown to us both. She came fully into the room and said, “So Mike wasn’t lying then. You seem to have found a lovely partner, Laura. I hope you are happy together.” We discussed our relationship as we walked down the garden to join the crowd gathered to watch the fireworks.

I asked Pan if they’d brought a bucket of water down in case of accidents with the fireworks. She went and asked Tony who said they didn’t need one. I volunteered to fetch one if she wanted, so she explained where there was a tap and bucket on the patio and I went off to collect a pail of water.

This turned out to be a good job. I gave the bucket to Pan who passed it to Tony. A few minutes later, with all of the fireworks about spent a huge fountain style one toppled over backwards and started spraying the fence with its flames. In seconds the fence seemed to catch fire which prompted shouts of advice from lots of people but Mike simply stepped forward, once the firework had gone out, and threw the bucket full of water at the fence. Towering Inferno averted. A few people started to praise Mike for his quick thinking but Pan, on our way back to the house for hot dogs or beef burgers quietly said, “Thanks for that.”

Standing in the hallway listening to one of the younger children telling me about the floods in the town {she had watched one of the rescue boats carrying people to safety from the High Street area onto Sullart Street way back in 2009} Mike’s Dad thanked me for suggesting the water bucket, too. They do seem like a nice family.

The guests started drifting away at about 1pm. The girl I had been chatting to, had fallen asleep in the armchair by the telephone in the hall. Her dad picked her up while she was still asleep and carried her out to their waiting car. I held open the door for him and told him my Dad used to do that for me, I would fall asleep at home and wake up here in Cumbria (as he like to drive through the night from Norwich). He told me who my Dad was. I never cease to be amazed at how many people know him. He also said he, and his family, were hoping to be invited to a Christening later in the year. I told him I wasn’t even sure there would be one, but he assured me Dad and Louisa had said they were going to have her splashed!

When I located Lollster, she was chatting with Mike’s big sister. They were both a bit tipsy, sitting on the floor of the dining room, munching their way through what remained of the crudités for the dips. The dips had long gone. I grabbed the last remaining pieces of celery and joined them on the floor. Mike’s sister must have just asked about what Laura was going to do after University. Laura was saying, “I haven’t really worked that out yet. I am looking at doing a Masters. My tutor thinks I should, if I can afford the fees. I don’t want to leave Sheffield if I can help it, it’s lovely. Also, I am hoping this one... (she reached over and grabbed my neck, pulling me towards her) …will ask me to marry her.” Here she kissed me. Then dissolved into giggles.    I was given a quizzical luck by Mike’s sister and I nodded at her, “It is a distinct possibility. But keep it under your hat, please. And you madam! I think it is time you were put to bed.”

“Oh yes, please!” She struggled to her feet and then draped herself round my shoulders. She began to nibble my ear as we walked (waltzed almost) down the hallway, to where Pan & Tony were saying goodnight to another couple of guests. I thanked them for a lovely evening and even Laura managed a decent attempt at a thank-you although it probably didn’t disguise the fact she was drunk as a skunk! The cold air hit us both like a slap in the face and Laura wobbled some more as we tottered towards the car. She plonked down into the passenger seat like a sack of potatoes being dropped.

On the drive back she nodded off to sleep for a while until we stopped at the junction to the Bullgill road off the A594. “Are we there? I am going to fuck you so much when we get in. I love you eating my furry bit…” She lapsed into silence again as we drove on to the village.

I navigated the drunken nymph into the house and up to my bedroom. She flopped onto the bed and started snoring. I left her and went to see to the dogs. I simply let them out into the paddock for their first ablutions of 2015. They seemed to take forever but were probably only ten minutes. It might have been quicker to walk them up Tall Hill instead.

Back in my bedroom, Laura had not moved at all. She looked absolutely gorgeous with her hair spread out round her head like a blonde halo. I can’t remember the last time she was this drunk. I carefully undressed her taking care with her important little places. Licking, kissing and even sucking her nipples evoked no reaction at all, not even an automatic, involuntary erection of them (they can stand out as long as the end of my thumb when she is seriously aroused).

It seemed she wasn’t going to fuck me so much after all. I helped her under the quilt and as I climbed in beside her a four armed octopus wrapped itself round me from the side and nuzzled its head under my chin. It made a, “Mmmmm!” noise and then was still again.

I woke up at about 5am and I was still entwined.

Thursday January 1^st.

When I woke up this morning I was in the middle of a seriously erotic dream where I was being fingered expertly and delicately by Richard. Or, it was Richard at first but then the person changed into a vague amorphous somebody whom I couldn’t recognise but who certainly knew their way round my vagina. I got wetter and wetter and more and more aroused. This became increasingly urgent and intense until I realised I wasn’t dreaming at all, there were at least three, maybe four slender fingers inside me, down below.

“Do you know I have been doing this for the last five minutes?” I wasn’t sure whether Laura’s tone was amused or annoyed. I didn’t get a chance to reply because instantly there was a click, a buzzing and a cold hard object replaced the fingers, sliding into me and hitting against my cervical opening causing me to gasp in delight.

“I told you I was going to fuck you so much….”

She did. We spent almost two hours getting downright dirty with each other. It was truly wonderful. We showered afterwards and then both of us walked the dogs up Tallentire Hill to greet the New Year and the Lake District national park with our company.

I was sort of expecting Laura to be hung over but she seemed as right as nine pence. She knew she had been really far gone but also seemed to be aware of everything she had done and what she’d been feeling. “Every time I saw you chatting to someone, I just wanted to wander across and secretly slide my fingers into your knickers.” This was very un-Laura like. She is usually modesty and decorum personified! It is as though she had remembered what I had told her about me and Richard, and how I wore stockings to many social functions so that he could surreptitiously slip his fingers into my vagina. Now she was wanting to do the same. I am not going to object!

Back at the house we skyped everyone we thought deserved a New Year message from us. It was mid-afternoon in Australia but we had a long old gossip. Dad and Louisa had to be fetched from the pool (again!).

After a cobbled together from odds and sods kind of lunch we sat and snuggled together on one of the sofas in the lounge and just hugged and hugged. Out of the blue and apropos of nothing in particular, Laura said, “For the record. And to make sure there are no doubts or misunderstandings… if you asked me, the answer would be ‘Yes’, definitely yes, totally yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“Let’s wait until after you graduate and then we can spend all of our time deciding what to do. How’s that?”

“Don’t you want to?”

“It’s not that at all. I just feel guilty that I am the only person you have ever known sexually and that you would be entering into something without having tried any alternatives.”

“Not this again! So what do you want? Do you want me to fuck around? Do you really want me to have lots of different lovers just because you think I can’t make a proper decision without having had lots of different women’s fingers in my cunt? Is that it?”

“No. It is just that I feel as though I am taking advantage of your inexperience. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing something because you think you ought to do it, not because it is what you really want. Do you see what I mean?”

“How would you feel if I let every girl at Uni who hits on me fuck me? Would that make you feel better? What then?”

“I would be heartbroken. I couldn’t stand it. It would be the worst thing that could happen. It would kill me.”

“So what’s the worry then? Why the doubt? Yes, you are the only person I have ever fucked but why is that a problem? I love you, you idiot! If our love counts for anything then the number of people I have fucked shouldn’t matter one jot. I know you have been a bloody nymphomaniac in the past – according to what you have told me . That doesn’t affect how I feel for you at all. And anyway, you have only ever had sex with one woman too, so why not?”

“How about this then? After you get your results, in the summer, we hold a party to celebrate that; and at that party we announce our engagement. That’ll give us plenty of time to save for a ring each and people will be, sort of, forewarned about our nuptials, probably after I get awarded my PhD. How does that grab you?”

It obviously grabbed her pretty well as we spent the next half an hour or so just snogging. In a break, when we both came up for air, Laura said, “We’ll not tell anyone until the party. That way it’ll be a real surprise and people won’t feel they have to buy us ‘engagement’ presents.”

“Do people still do that?”

“I did for my two sisters…”

Our evening meal and rest of the night was spent in a sort of warm, contented glow. The desire to shout from the roof tops was overwhelming. The feeling of having a shared secret was wonderful. 

A beginner's guide to survival bag sledging. [And a power cut.]

Friday December 26^th – Boxing Day.

Another coldish and clear morning awaited us this morning so after a swifter dog walk than usual and a wolfed breakfast by all parties we arrived at the elbow in the road that marks the start of the Spout Force Waterfall walk. Our rucksacks were packed with lunch, snacks, hot drinks and plenty of waterproof outer layers for both ourselves and two of the dogs.

The climb up to the summit of Greystones is a killer from where we parked, so we did a major detour to Spout Force itself and then wound our way up through the woods to come out on the same slope but three quarters of the way up, without having expended anywhere near as much effort and energy as if we’d walked straight up the path. When I last did this walk, the track behind Spout Force has suffered from gale damage and it was criss-crossed with fallen trees. This made route following a challenge as I had to either scrawm below a fallen trunk or clamber over one. This time the very nice people at the Forestry Commission (who manage the woodland) had been down and sawn through the offending trunks to make the way clear again.

The summit of Greystones was clear of frozen white stuff but very cold. The wind was howling in from the south west and it was so strong if you jumped up in the air you landed a couple of feet away from your take off point. We decided not to stay and relax just here, we thought we’d have a swift sip from a flask in the shelter of the plantation on the way to the summit of Broom Fell. A good idea, as it was as calm as a summer’s day (without the heat) and we perched on a boulder each to have a cuppa and a biscuit.

On top of Broom itself was just as windy as Greystones so we didn’t linger overlong. We stopped to inspect the view and for the Lollster to snap a few pictures and then on we yomped to the highest point of the walk; Lord’s Seat. Unlike Blake Fell, on Christmas Eve, here there was a sprinkling of snow. It was still like being inside a wind-machine in a fridge on top but the glistening white stuff brought out the bright orange plastic for a swift bout of survival bag sledging.

This is brilliant despite the fact Charlie dog runs alongside you as you hurtle down the slope and then launches himself onto your back (probably in a misguided canine attempt to prevent you heading to your doom). There is a good run down from the summit to a stock fence which acts as a natural barrier to your progress. We were the only two on the summit when we started throwing ourselves down the hill on thin sheets of plastic but another couple of people (man & woman) arrived from the direction of Whinlatter Forest and decided our sledging looked such fun they had to join in on their bags. Fortunately, Charlie Dog decided not to rescue these newcomers, he spared his attention for Laura and me.

How to sledge on a survival bag (a beginner’s guide).

1.     Extract your survival bag from your rucksack and open it out.

2.     Using the closed end as the top, grasp the top firmly in your gloved hands (wearing gloves is definitely advisable) using each corner of the bag as a pair of makeshift handles.

3.     If you are left handed (like me) hold your bag to the left hand side and started to run down the slope. Right hander, do the reverse.

4.     When you think you have acquired sufficient momentum, throw yourself onto the slope, aiming to bring the bag around in front of you before you hit terra firma. (This can knock the wind out of you if you land stomach first. I try and land elbows and forearms first.) This takes a little practise to finesse.

5.     Pull your hands together in front of your face, keeping hold of the bag’s corners, you ninny! This should make a sort of ship’s prow, pointy effect with your arms and hands.

6.     Sort of use your forearms, elbows and knees to raise as much of your body off the ground as possible to restrict friction.

7.     As you gather speed fell free to yell anything you like at the top of your voice. (Try to avoid obscenities, it frightens the sheep!)

8.     Keep your eyes peeled for renegade chocolate Labradors who think you are in mortal danger and may try to rescue from a fate too terrible to describe here – this usually results in a canine human heap being formed which loses all its aerodynamic properties and grinds to a halt in a sprawling, leggy, snowy, doggy, tangle.

Please note, the author accepts no responsibility for any deaths or serious (or even minor) injuries which arise as a result of following this beginner’s guide. You use the guidelines at your own risk.

After a good half an hour of this reckless fun we stopped for more snacking and hot drink, before dusting ourselves off and heading for Barf, to the east. From here we took the forest road, which lead us straight to the Whinlatter Visitor Centre and Siskins Café, which was not open ! ! Boo Hoo to the power of infinity! We should have asked the people who came up to the summit of Lord’s Seat, so we could have avoided a long walk downhill, which meant a longer walk back uphill to Whinlatter Top and Brown How. Knowing that the café was closed, we could have headed for Whinlatter Top from Tarbarrel Moss and lost hardly any height at all. Still, all the picnic benches etc were outside (as you’d expect) so we ate our lunch and drank some more from our flask and were also able to use the centre’s toilets, which were open despite the centre being closed.

The walk up to Whinlatter Top isn’t too onerous, to be honest and from there, the ridge along to Brown How is delightful. It was still as windy as hell though, and now we were walking into the wind. Dropping down to the plantation we escaped the wind and got a little bit lost in the trees. Eventually, by the simple expedient of always taking the path that went downwards, we arrived at the road which leads to the official Spout Force car park. From here it was a short descent down to the river, across the footbridge and there was Dad’s Landrover waiting to take us all back home. The whole route was about 9 miles long, we must have climbed about 800 metres altogether and we got back to the car at 2.30pm, which means we’d been out about 6 and a bit hours! Phew.

Back at the ranch (as they say) we cleaned up the dogs and then piled into the shower to spruce ourselves up too. Food smells greeted us as we arrived, so a swift rustling up of some rice to go with the Turkey a la king meant we were scoffing for England pretty shortly after the sluicing down.

Our Boxing Day adventures didn’t end here though. We indulged ourselves in some cunning linguistics for the late afternoon and sat to watch some mindless TV in the evening, eschewing social activities for the night as we were quite tired out, TBH. At about 9.30 the lights went out as all the power had gone off! Laura phoned her Mum and they’d lost power too. It seemed the northern half of the village was in darkness, whilst the side facing the National Park still had everything working as normal.

I phoned the power company and the recorded message told us that the situation had been reported and they would be fixing the fault as soon as possible. It may take until 8am tomorrow!

At this point, instead of wallowing in despair, I had a brainwave. Dad’s generator. It was still in the garage, under his workbench. I had to read the manual to see how it worked, then find some engine oil for it and petrol. Once I’d put the oil in and the juice, I switched all the switches, pulled all the levers, said a prayer and pulled the starter rope. It took about six pulls before our saviour spluttered into life. I hoicked it up and carried it the rear verandah where its noise wouldn’t cause any offence to the neighbours ) it is really bloody heavy. The trailing socket I led back into the house and plugged the boiler into it! Hoorah, it worked. Laura had found two more extension leads, a shortish one which we led into the lounge and plugged in two floor lights, I ran the huge long one up through the house into my bedroom and plugged my alarm clock and bedside lights into it. We did a count up of the new power usage and worked out that as it was a 2000 watt genny, we could use the microwave to boil up water for hot drinks, so we ran another extension lead to that. I felt really chuffed that we had sorted the problem simply and quickly and that we were up and running. The house looked a bit weird with wired snaking everywhere and the dogs seemed very confused, especially Izzy, who we kept moving from the cables as she would go and lie on them and she has a habit of chewing new things in her range!

Loll phoned her Mum to invite them to ours if they hadn’t got sorted, but Eric had dug out his generator too, it’s a tiny weeny one, only 650 watts, but enough to do what I’d done with their boiler and lights. They had also found two camping stoves to boil up water for hot drinks. They were OK, so we took the dogs out for a final walk of the day and hit the charp at about 11pm.

Saturday 27^th December.

I got up at about 4.30 to go and refill the genny’s petrol tank just in case it ran out on us, by this time I had thought about fridges as well, so we plugged the fridge into the extension, removing one of the lounge lights from it. I figured that if we didn’t open the freezer it would be good for at least 24 hours before things started to get serious. (Mine is like that anyway, so I hoped Dad’s was too.)

At 7am, just before I wandered up the hill with the dogs I phoned the electricity company whose recorded message still said all the power should be restored by 8 am. I took them all up to the trig point at the top of the hill, which would give the company long enough to have us connected to the grid again. I walked in the door, after drying off the pups at just after 8.10 to see a grim faced Laura waiting, “I just phoned the emergency line and they’ve put the time back to 2.30 this afternoon.” How bloody long did they need?

We rummaged in the eaves storage space for Dad’s camp kitchen and gas bottle, on which we made scrambled eggs on toast for brekkers and boiled up a huge kettle of water, we used some to make tea and the rest to fill our flasks. Unplugging the second lounge light we rigged up power to Dad’s TV equipment and started to watch LOTR The Return of the King. (We had already watched the Fellowship of the Ring on Monday and the Two Towers on Tuesday.) This actually took us to well after 12 noon.

I checked the emergency line again and the time for reconnection hadn’t altered at all, which was sort of hopeful. Our lunch was sausage and mash and beans (well, we were using a camp kitchen so it seemed appropriate). We sat in the lounge with our plates on our knees watching the special features disc to the RotK DVD when the lights came back on again! At bloody last!

Tidying away all the wires, camp kitchen and generator took us much less time than getting it all set up. The 2.30 time was beaten by almost an hour and a half. [As a post script to this, I got a phone call on Monday morning -29^th – from the company apologising for the outage and the time it took to restore the connection. The lady on the phone was so obsequious and conciliatory I hadn’t the heart to be rude to her. After all, as Loll said afterwards, it wasn’t her fault; she was just the voice on the phone trying to smooth things over!]

The rest of the day we spend just pottering about and generally being a pair of lazy cows who eat off their knees in front of the TV.  I was Tina, she was Cheryl and we were typists from Sunderland! The silliness we sometimes get up knows no bounds.

Sunday December 28^th

We had a morning of skyping across the globe. I called Australia and entertained everyone with our blackout tales. Dad was concerned I hadn’t damaged his precious generator. I teased him about his precious [well, we had been watching LotR hadn’t we? Louisa was still fine and in the pink. The kids were gobsmacked at having a pregnant woman in their midst, the girls were just toddlers when Suze was pregnant so they have vague memories of what it is like.

Mum was chipper and a happy little soul. She loved her pressie and was surprised when I told her I had bought the pattern to make a lot more (I’d got a multi-pocketed fabric bag, she has masses of these crammed with her gubbins) of different sizes and shapes and capacities. She though the power cut was appalling, that we had been off for so long.

Gran was her usual mock-grumpy self [it’s all an act]. She is looking forward to Mum’s visit for New Year’s Eve and then the trip to stay with us too. It’s been really rainy in Hawick and she had a good old moan about the Scottish weather.

Kaybers was up to her eyes in chaos as they had decided to reorganise their bedroom and move things around. I was thinking, Why do it at this time of year? It transpires they’d had a big argument about where the cot for the baby should go and Kaybers wanted to re-position the bed so there was more room at her side for the cot.

For everyone else I just e-mailed a generic post Christmas epistle, altered slightly for personalisation purposes. I was surprised to get several replies within the hour!

As the weather was a bit grotty, we took the woofies up to Silloth, to stroll along the prom. Parking at the Skinburness end and walking into town (where we munched through the obligatory bag of chips, up in the pagoda) and then back up to the car. This is a wonderful stroll and is about two miles long. As a bonus, Criffel decided to put in an appearance, across the Solway Firth. There is a saying along the west coast of Cumbria; “If you can see Criffel it’s going to rain: if you can’t it is raining!” Luckily it didn’t rain on us at all.

We had our evening meal with Molly, Eric and Stephen and fielded questions about my immediate family. They don’t remember ever meeting my Scottish Gran, so I invited them round to have a meal with us all, when she and Mum arrived. I am sure they must have met her some time, surely. Probably before I arrived on the scene.

After dinner we had a surprise visit from Avril and Andy. Avril is one of Loll’s sisters and she is almost exactly the same age as me, I am a Pisces and she is an Aries. If I hadn’t been so keen to arrive in the world I would have been an Aries too! They are thinking of buying a house in Silloth! They had been there this afternoon. When Laura said that we had too, Avril said that she knew, or thought she knew, because she thought she saw us, surrounded by a pack of dogs, walking along the prom towards Skinburness, as they were driving back down the Skinburness Road, going in the other direction. They had been to look at a house just past where we had parked up, on the main road, looking out over the Solway. Apparently it was a bit of a mess inside, though.

The arrival of A & A meant we stayed much longer than we had meant to, and the dogs final walk didn’t start until just before midnight. Still, the evening was very enjoyable. I don’t get to see Laura’s sisters that often and they are great company.