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.