A cheese & pickle sandwich, and five foam bananas

The past week or so seems a little hazy. There are many things I could attribute this to, but top of the list is my fever riddled brain. Rachel and I regularly exchange half arsed high fives for being part of the 'sick squad'. My main food source has become Lemsip, while Rachel has taken to necking an entire packet of Fab ice lollies in one go. It all started when Mick went outside to play with some big rocks. One of these boulders almost took his finger off - Rachel and I both looked at it and were nearly sick. (I'm not quite sure that's how people contract an illness - but it makes sense in my present state). 

Much has happened before and after that (or in a completely different order), and I'll do my best to recall these events now. On one of my evenings off, I went over to camp the night at YHA Windermere. It was lovely to see my friend Harry who works there - the first and last time we'd met was back in March at the recruitment weekend. The hostel at Windermere has a TV, and I watched Germany v Northern Ireland with three guys from Spain, & two girls from Japan (currently living in Poland). I actually missed most of the first half as I was helping an Australian family plan their road trip around Scotland. I recommended more of the west coast, and less time in Aberdeen and Dundee. Not long after I had arrived I got chatting to a girl who was obviously completely new to the whole camping/Hostelling thing. She plied me quite a few questions, before asking, "so, what do you do at night?" I happened to glance over at her boyfriend at this point, and saw him looking part exasperated, part hopeful. 

It was good to have a night away, but it was even better getting back. Coming over Wrynose & Hardknott pass I was greeted by a great wave of happiness. I was so excited to see Mick and Rachel again (who happened to be outside as I drove in), even if they did speak to me with their backs turned because I'd visited another hostel. I wasn't quite so enamoured with the whole Eskdale scene though when Tom-Tom came round armed with a pen, and chose to stand perilously close to my football wall chart. He has resorted to extreme measures to get back in the blog, he even asked if doing this would give him a mention (as he proceeded to push me off a chair in the Woolpack).

As well as our newfound addiction to Lemsip and Fab ice lollies, Rachel and I have taken to making outrageous bets. We had had one packed lunch ordered, and only one pre-prepared sandwich left. She wagered five foam bananas that I wouldn't be able to convince the guest that he wanted a cheese and pickle sandwich (instead of ham, tuna mayo, egg mayo, etc.). When I went back to my room later on that day, my pockets were stuffed full of sweets. How I managed to pull it off shall remain firmly between myself and Mr Smith (bland fictional name). 

Derrick and the Diamondback Moths

Since the return of Mick and Rachel, normality has well and truly been restored. I went into the laundry room one morning, and asked Mick, "is that your washing in there?" 

"Yes, it should have finished by now." I had to point out that the machine door probably needs to be closed for it to work. ("Oh! Fantastic.") 

Then followed a chain of events that could even be considered peculiar for here. A man called Derrick came to my room and asked to get in the shower, and after he had left, Rachel came knocking on the door as she had something really important to show me (her ankle). Then Fiona came coo-eee-ing down the corridor as she hadn't seen me all day (and everyone else had). Later on I walked outside to find Mick rolling telegraph poles down the drive. 

Rachel has discovered that if she achieves a certain level of inappropriateness then those particular comments won't make it onto the blog. I would estimate that over 72% of the things she says fit nicely into this category. I'm left instead with the odd remark about sandcastleing ice cream, doing Feng Shui with hash browns, and the ongoing threats of violence ("I'll knee you in the face!"). 

Fiona is a different kettle of fish altogether. We could only assume that one of her cardigans was embroidered with organic broccoli, and had subsequently been attacked by a biblical invasion of Diamondback moths. It would almost be possible for her to fit her head through the holes in the elbows. But she waltzes around in it anyway, diluting home brewed Elderflower Cordial with Pimms, and asking when I would like her to cut my hair.

One day I was tasked with the job of peeling what felt like 97 potatoes. I decided it was worth a go trying to speed up proceedings by sneaking up on the sink and scaring the potatoes so much that they would jump out of their skins. Remarkably, it didn't really seem to work. Rachel told me that I was a little bit strange, but Mick was genuinely interested in my success rate (and suggested that I probably needed to be more frightening). We discussed the potential impact of a positive attitude being able to influence remote events as we walked down to the Woolpack to watch England v Wales (with a slightly drunk Scotsman). 

Intermediate entomology, & the Boot Beer Festival

It has been funny old time with Mick and Rachel being away. A man in a stripy jacket accidentally set fire to the rubbish bin, and a woman told me to go to Singapore because I wouldn't get my handbag stolen there (I haven't had my handbag stolen. I don't even own one). I then walked in on someone having a wee, because, "Oh! Sorry. I forgot to lock the door." It seems that the silly season is well and truly here, or perhaps it's just the 'Boot Beer Festival effect'. There was all sorts going on down at the Woolpack, including tractor pulling, live music, and welly throwing. I went along the day before it all kicked off, and although madly busy, Harry still took the time to have a chat and buy up three teams in the charity sweepstake (thanks again). 

 

I must admit that for a couple of days I felt a little lost and at times despondent without Mick and Rachel around, especially when Fiona was on her days off.  To me it seems that the four of us have developed such an atmosphere of seamless madness, an unspoken understanding of how we move, live, and work, that the sudden disruption of this affected me profoundly. It was almost peculiar to me, this sensation of 'being in my head'. It is something I have experienced so often in the past, but hardly at all in the last six-eighteen months. The difference is now that I'm much more aware of it, and generally much better at coping with the odd dark moment. Talking about it helps (thanks Fiona & mum), as does writing about it (thanks to you all). It passed (or I passed it off) fairly quickly, and it was actually a pleasant reminder of these happy present times and the wonderful folk I have the privilege to call work colleagues, friends, neighbours, and family. But I won't get too soppy and sentimental - I know Rachel copes better with scandal and outrage. Speaking of which.....

I'm really getting into Euro 2016. I organised the sweepstake, and Mick got a wall chart for me, which I've neatly stuck up on the kitchen door. I was so excited about being able to fill in all the scores, that I was telling everyone about it (or so I thought). I hurried down to the kitchen one afternoon, only to find that Rob had already penned in the score for the Albania Switzerland game. It's possible that I might have slightly overreacted to this discovery, walking round the room with my head in my hands repeatedly saying, "I can't believe it!" I accused Rob of doing this deliberately because he knew how much I was looking forward to it. But it transpired that I hadn't had that particular conversation with him, or indeed anyone! It's a bit of a worry sometimes. But I still can't believe he did it. I turned my attention instead to a spot of intermediate entomology. I pinned a dead spider (a discarded tomato stalk) to a piece of paper, labelled and dated it, then attached it to the wall. 

 

Rachel and Mick returned from Scotland a day or so later, and judging by the gifts they gave us they had spent their entire time raiding the Tunnocks factory. Fantastic. Mick won one of the prizes in our charity sweepstake - first team to have a player sent off. We had an official prize giving ceremony in the kitchen, Rachel sang the Albanian national anthem (or something vaguely similar) with Rob and Fiona on backing vocals (squarks) while I presented Mick with a £5 note for violent conduct. 

The strange events of a week in June

Mick and Rachel have gone away for the week. Fiona and I have been joined by Rob and Barry, and then what felt like 100 Leicester fans one weekend. They had a large group booking at the hostel for a charity walk up Scafell Pike. All different ages, and all of them (including the young lad Ryan who has cancer) made it safely up to the summit and back down again. I could almost forgive them for the football banter that was continually directed my way. Good luck to them all when they tackle Ben Nevis next year. 

It seems strange that in previous posts I've hardly ever mentioned the weather. Especially as talking about (and complaining about) that particular topic is surely a prerequisite for being human. I shall now endeavour to rectify my failings. It has been hot. Bloody hot. The beck is running low, and we can't have seen more than a day of rain in the past month. It's starting to affect us all. I've been down at the pub making wild predictions to Dave about the exact timings of thunderstorms (totally inaccurate as it turns out - we've had no such thing), and doing rain dances in the more private location of my room. Fiona was seen wandering down the drive in a bikini in search of water deep enough to submerge herself in (which needn't be much as she is pretty tiny). She then returned and got quite drunk on one glass of wine whilst Rob and I played miniature table tennis on the floor. 

The mirror man (who turned up at 1.30 on bank holiday Sunday) came back again with a replacement mirror (it turned out that one of the previous lot was broken). I asked if he'd like a cuppa, but he declined saying he needed to be off straight away. Thirty minutes later he was still here measuring all the forty or so mirrors in the back of his van and scratching his head. "I don't think they've put the right one in. Non of these seem to be the right size do they? I'll measure them again." Fiona and I took it in turns to go out and make sure he was ok. When eventually he was convinced that the correct mirror wasn't there he said, "I'll just drive back to Blackpool and tell them."

For what is probably the first time in my life, I'm really glad half term is over. The valley is much quieter again, although that's likely to be short lived. The Boot Beer Festival is this coming weekend, and Dave was telling me that it's often the craziest two days of the year. I made the very short stroll down to Doctor Bridge this morning - a lovely spot to sit down on big rocks by the water. The only other people there were a couple from London who I chatted to for a while. It's moments like that - having the freedom to walk, and to talk to strangers in a beautiful place without fear, which remind me how fortunate I am, and what a privileged life I lead. I have so much, and want for little, especially when it comes to love. We often deny ourselves love because we believe it should look or feel a certain way. But our capacity to love and to be loved is endless - the possibilities unlimited. Love is as beautiful as it is strange. It is in life, it is in death, it is in everything there has ever been. 

Rugby players bums are not to be sniffed at

A good friend came to visit Bank Holiday weekend. We had tickets to the Pro 12 final at Murrayfield, so we headed up to Edinburgh and found it buzzing with 35,000 merry Connacht and Leinster fans. Jane saved the life of a man named Otto by dragging him out of the road as a car approached. From where we had parked we walked about 13 miles around the city, and 8 of those were just to use the toilets at the National Gallery (they have nice hand wash). Our seats were in the East Stand, which meant we were not facing the players as they lined up (and for the presentation). I apologised to Jane for this, but she didn't seem to mind, "rugby players bums are not to be sniffed at." It was really all Connacht on the day, all of the play, and all of the crowd support - it was something quite special to be there. 

When we got back to Eskdale, Rachel treated us all to a game of 'pâté or shell?' Which basically involved her pushing a tube of pâté or a shell through the hole in a picnic bench and us having to guess which one it would be. I can't say I was that successful at it - probably because Rachel always chose the item that I hadn't picked. We were also told how a man had come to deliver a mirror on Bank Holiday Sunday at 5.30am (he had actually arrived at 1.30am and slept on the drive). 

Tom came round and laughed his head off when my fishing net broke in the pond. He fixed it though, and a few days later I caught a baby trout in the stream. I scared Fiona half to death with my shouts of jubilation, and put the little fella straight back under her strict instructions (even if she was tempted by half a mouthful of fish with cashew nuts for tea). Mick said I deserved the success because I'd been sitting in the stream for three hours. 

My mum came to visit after the weekend, and it was lovely to get out for some walks with her. Even if she did want to replace me with Fiona as her daughter. I think it was a blessing in disguise though - it transpired that she had tried to lure Fiona to the stone circle and offer her up as a sacrifice. 

I've set up a charity Euro 2016 sweepstake, raising money for Breaks for Kids (a YHA charity support underprivileged and disadvantaged children). Mick drew out Albania, and I drew out England. At least we stand a chance of winning our money back for being the first team to have a player sent off, or for being the first team to miss a penalty. Fiona meanwhile kept asking if anyone had got Brazil yet. When we explained that Brazil weren't in the European Championships she said, "Well that's just silly. Australia are in the Eurovision Song Contest."