The last few days in Eskdale (until December at least) passed in the usual eventful style. Saturday night, bonfire night, was our final staff get together for a while, although I don't think all four of us were actually ever in the same place at the same time. Fiona had been out running and broke herself slightly, she hobbled back to the hostel complete with a great tale of woe. Despite Rachel and I offering to carry her to the firework display at the George, she opted (most wisely) to remain with her feet up in the warm. Mick was busy setting up the outside pizza festival for the Bolsover Woodlands Enterprise group, so Rachel and I headed down the road alone. (But not before Rachel had stood outside the toilet door singing 'Islands in the Stream' to me whilst I had a wee). I think I'd been telling several people over the course of the day just how excited I was to be going to a bonfire. I'd been in Switzerland the year before, and as I had to explain to someone, they don't celebrate 5th November there as I'm fairly sure ours was the only parliament that Guy Fawkes tried to blow up. So you can (perhaps) imagine my disappointment when we arrived at the pub only to discover that there was no bonfire, only fireworks. But the fireworks were very good, and I felt incredibly safe because Rachel was standing next to me with a glass of soda water (which was meant to be lemonade, but now she could use it as a fire extinguisher). We joined in with the pizza festival when got back, and threw down some moves to Dolly Parton. There was even time to head to the Woolpack afterwards with Mick, but all that really sticks in my mind about that was when Paddington walked in and offered us all some fudge.
It must be something of a phenomenon, that amongst the tiny population of east Eskdale there are three Spurs fans. We gathered together in the Woolpack at midday on Sunday to watch the north London derby (much to Harry's mild disapproval - "isn't there any proper sport on?!). In between giving an alternative commentary on the game, Struan was earnestly telling me and Dave that apart from the King of Thailand, Mick is the nicest man he has ever met. And since the King of Thailand died, he has now promoted Mick to being the nicest man in the world. I was naturally intrigued as to where and when Struan had actually met the King of Thailand, and upon hearing his answer I wonder if perhaps 'met' should be downgraded to 'seen along with hundreds of others from a considerable distance'. "I met him in Bangkok. It was his birthday. There was a procession, and he floated along throwing bread to people like a Roman dictator. I've never seen anyone float before, apart from David Blaine." There's not a lot you can say in reply to that, so I changed the subject slightly and said what a shame it was that Tom-Tom wasn't here - an Arsenal fan to spice up the rivalry. Dave was not convinced by Tom-Tom's dedication to following the sport, though......"he wouldn't know if Arsenal had lost to Partick Thistle at the weekend!" The match finished 1-1, and the biggest controversy was when a woman came to the bar and ordered a decaf expresso. I spent the evening singing songs in the style of Honey G with Rachel, and packed a few things into my van ready to leave the following day. I did have time for a wander around Eskdale in the morning, and it was stunning with the Autumn colours and a dusting of snow on the high mountain tops. Even for three weeks I will miss this place, and these people. Now it's to the other side of the mountain.
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