"There's only one Darren Gale!"

It was good to get away for a night - driving on the M6 always brings a healthy slice of perspective, and of course it was lovely to see my mum and Hamish. I was able to watch the Tour de France, Wimbledon, and the Portugal v Wales match with my brother. My mum did wander in occasionally when the football was on, and when she wandered off again she could be heard singing "there's only one Darren Gale" to herself. (Darren Gale is Wales' best player. Apparently). 

The following morning I popped into the hospital to get a blood test. The nurse was lovely, but she was so busy telling me about the tandem that her husband has just bought that I don't think she was paying too much attention to where she was sticking the needle. I also can't rule out the possibility that she is actually a vampire and took the blood that way - such is the bruising on my arm. I guess we'll all know soon enough if a Twilight style reality TV show based in Eskdale is announced.  

 Each time I come back it strengthens the desire in me to keep coming back. It's not just the scenery, it's everything about this place (& most especially the people). I cannot recall a time in my adult life that I have been so happy, and to be aware of it as these times are happening, to revel in it, is incredible. I struggle to comprehend it sometimes, such is the difference compared to past moments of depression and crippling self doubt. I never imagined I would be able to think of all that and smile. 

I love the change, from busy motorways to narrow roads crowded with sheep and cows (Wrynose Pass was particularly interesting this time around). From built up towns to the wide open, eternal fells. Then it's into the drying room to collect my laundry which carries the slight scent of thirty damp wetsuits for the next couple of days. It's good to be 'home'.