Of all the slightly strange things that have happened since moving to the Lake District almost a year ago, the events of last Tuesday night have to be right up there. I'd been working at Honister again during the day, and even though the weather was miserable, come 9pm (& back down in Borrowdale) I needed to get outside for some fresh air. It's an uncomplicated 7km run on the road to Seathwaite and back, and in the wind, rain, & with the single beam from a headtorch you become totally enveloped in the moment. I couldn't say which I prefer, running in the darkness or the daylight, they both other such a different experience that it goes beyond a simple matter of preference. It never escapes my notice though, how we almost need the presence of darkness in our lives, how we need it to help make sense of certain things. Anyway....I digress. It is very unusual to meet anyone else out and about at that time of night, even the road is more often that not totally car free. But as I reached the end of the road, I saw a man crouched down behind the wall holding a torch and a pair of binoculars. Even though it must have been apparent that I'd seen him, and even for a moment after I'd asked if he was alright, he continued to stay there, crouched down. I thought at first he was a disorientated walker who had got lost & stumbled down off the fells. But then he finally moved, spoke, and asked me, "what's going on here?" I replied, stating what I thought was fairly obvious, that I was just out on a run. It took a few minutes for me to convince him of this - he couldn't quite believe that anyone would be out running at this time of night, & in the wind and rain. It turned out that this gentleman was the owner of the farm at Seathwaite, & he had thought that I was a sheep rustler, or at least someone up to no good. Once we'd cleared all this up though, we actually had a very pleasant conversation - mostly about the newly resurfaced road, & the history of all the previous times it had been resurfaced (I wasn't doing much of the talking at this point). I recorded my fastest time on the run home.
A few days later I was working the evening kitchen shift with Bianca, when Zach walked in from reception & put up a meal tab for what seemed to be one hundred and eleven samosas. "Erm, Bianca....I'm not sure we have enough of the crescent moon shaped plates for that?" Bianca looked at the order, issued a muted 'arrrrrrghhh' (complete with dramatic hand gestures), and said "I keep telling Zach to write actual numbers rather than doing a tally!" Plate shortage panic over. Later that night, back in the staff house, a few of us stayed up chatting nonsense & watched Bianca trying to complete an obstacle course around the living room. It was then that I first had the idea to create an underground Borrowdale news station, nothing fake, all happy, such as an un-lost cat being found. Simon has agreed to interview the fortunate moggy. Transmission could be a bit of a problem - we don't really pick up radio this deep into the valley, so it might have to be via the blog, instead.
After a fairly busy week at work, and times when I was really feeling quite tired, I was glad to have some days off. I actually had four in a row lined up, and once I'd caught up on some sleep I was looking forward to getting outside to do some running, swimming, & general exploring. It was late afternoon on Saturday when I took off around Buttermere - all part of the plan really as it would be quieter then, & more chance of an undiscovered skinny dip! I managed two actually, and was having so much fun I needed my headtorch to get me back to where I'd parked. The weather on Sunday was just lovely, and after listening to the Australian Open final through Bianca's phone I headed out for a run up Haystacks, & a skinny dip in Blackbeck Tarn. I bumped into an elderly gentleman just by the top of Honister Pass - we got chatting, and he asked me quite seriously if Haystacks was named after the wrestler 'Giant Haystacks'? It took me a moment before I was able to answer, "Erm.....I don't think so, but don't let that stop you having a good day!" That had me smiling for quite a while, not that it was a day that was short of smiles. In fact, as I later told my friend Lizzi - I spent most of the day smiling like a lion. Sometimes I find that a typo (lion/loon) can actually enhance the sentiment behind a message. Skinny dipping was not so straightforward on this occasion - as I was running up past the tarns there were people at both Blackbeck & Innominate. I also couldn't fail to notice that there was a fair amount of ice around the most accessible shorelines. But I was not to be deterred. By the time I had reached the summit & run back on myself, the people had moved on. I skirted round the edge of Blackbeck Tarn, took all my clothes off & got straight in for a quick swim.
When I got back to Borrowdale and the staff house, I was so, so excited to see that Dave had returned from his holidays! It must have been before Christmas since we'd both been in the valley, and I would often find myself missing his company (and the same with Glen, & Rhys). I was especially delighted to see that he was wearing his orange/yellow jacket - & I asked if he wouldn't mind being the golden snitch when I organised a date for our staff Quidditch trials. At the moment though it is only Bianca & myself who have actually signed up. This surprises me slightly as I posted the notice on the fridge door, & made it quite clear that no previous experience was required. Simon then appeared eating several Kit-Kats, & he started asking what I'd been up to that afternoon. I told him about the running, skinny dipping, & the man who thought a Lake District mountain was named after a wrestler. Simon thought about this for a moment before informing me that Wainwright's ashes were scattered somewhere by the top of Haystacks. "If any of them ended up in that tarn, Wainwright might have been caressing your body this afternoon." Then, changing the subject, we spent the rest of the evening until Match of the Day came on assigning all the staff with wrestling names.
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