The problem with chickens

The last weekend in June saw two sporting events come through the valley. I was on the late duty Friday night, and I've never checked in (or checked out) so many cyclists. The majority were doing the coast to coast in a day, which started very early the following morning from Seascale (10 miles away). There was also the cycle leg of Triathlon X which went past the hostel before heading up Hardknott & Wrynose pass. I didn't anticipate actually being able to see any of the events, but as I wandered along to the post box after the morning shift at work, I spotted a few riders, and then another - this one wearing an Oxygen Addict kit. I knew my younger brother's coach was taking part, and although he has never met me I yelled out some encouragement (and loudly explained that I was Hamish's sister). After posting my letter I hurried back to get Rachel, and we both sat on the wall cheering on the other cyclists. Rachel actually thought that I was in with a good chance of landing myself a whole heap of men for the weekend. "While they're in such a weakened state, all you need to do is put a stick through their spokes - I'll bring the van down and they'll all just tumble in." I think she should start up a new kind of dating agency. We almost walked straight into the post van coming down the drive, but it was all ok because he's a cheery sort who does his round in a white singlet vest, and thinks Rachel lives in the hostel's drying room. 

The four of us became five on Saturday afternoon - we have been joined by Julia for a month. She is lovely and great, and didn't seem at all put off when the first thing we asked her to do was to join in a game of Hunt the Rotten Potato (a real thing, not a dodgy sequel to The Hunt for Red October). The following morning, as we all sat around eating breakfast, Fiona suddenly started to say, "The problem with chickens is that they die." We felt bound to question her about what her parents had taught her regarding the immortality of certain animals. I can't be certain, but I think she spent the rest of the day mourning the death of three goldfish and a hamster.  

Fiona seems to spends a significant proportion of her time up a ladder. Nothing really to do with her height (or lack of - she is frequently heard to say that this hostel is heightist), but more to do with the fact that she keeps locking her room key, and the spare room key, inside. The only way in then is through the window, and her room is on the first floor. It was on one such occasion, just before a school group were due to arrive, that Mick yelled a question to me to pass on to Fiona. I think something must have been lost in translation, because I shouted up the ladder to Fiona, "Mick wants to know how many armed guards you want? They're in the bell tent at the moment keeping out of the rain." 

A more serious note (more a note to self) 

A slight despondency has settled in the air, and it has little to do with England's shock exit from the European Championships. There will always be times of great uncertainty, when our jobs, our security, our way of life, come under threat. We cannot deny that many of these things are out of our control - that the ball continues to be in motion, and we have no idea where it may briefly settle, or if it will ever stop. But here's the thing - I do believe that, one way or another, everything will be alright. It is all too easy to let resentment breed, anger even, with hope for the future diminished by these things. But we must guard our minds, guard our thoughts, and not let our good will and kindness be overcome. We must not forget the impact we can have (and do have) as individuals to do good, and to care for those around us. The differences we have, the things that divide us, are nothing in comparison to what unites us. So much can be dispensed with, our opinions might not always be the same, but that does not stop friendship, respect, and community. Our fortune comes not from money but from where we are born. That we are born at all, that we are who we have grown to be - the fundamental spine of our existence is connection, unity, and never isolation. We remain a part of something bigger than ourselves, a part of something bigger than a single nation, a part of the 7.4 billion. 

Whatever the future holds, whatever problems it may bring, we must face it with courage, conviction, and above all, compassion. Let us not take to blaming others, let us listen better, and disagree more peacefully.