Cottaging, & Honey G!

Last Saturday evening I received an invitation from Rachel which was, quite frankly, impossible to resist. "Ki-Ki, do you want to come and watch X-Factor with me and Moss, and eat some cheese and potato pie?!" It's a good job she didn't mention the copious amounts of Asda value lemonade that needed drinking so that the empty bottles could be used to make space rockets. I was pretty much too darn excited already. Of course I agreed, but had to make it absolutely clear that I was only really interested in one of the acts, surely the odds (odd) on favourite, Honey G. And I was not disappointed, with any of it. As Louis would say, "That was the best performance of the night." There was also something about the other contestants taking the mick out of her in the house..."when I say coffee, you say tea!" We both agreed that this would be a really funny thing to rap to the customers at the hostel when they ordered a hot drink. Who knew the X-Factor could be so inspirational. 

Fiona was, by this point, off on her holidays for a week. She had been very excitedly telling anyone who would listen that, and I quote, "I'm going cottaging in the Yorkshire Dales!" I don't think she really was going cottaging, but you can never tell with Fiona. This left me and Rachel to do a complete clear out of the hostel on Sunday morning, and although it was quite a task I did come away with my pockets full of nerf gun ammunition. Bit useless as I don't actually own a nerf gun, but not as useless as the shooting skills of the group we had staying (judging by the location of some of the foam pellets). 

My days off seemed to come around very quickly this week, and on Wednesday afternoon I packed a few things in my van and headed over to Borrowdale. I called in at the hostel there, but actually spent the night at Stonethwaite campsite (which cost a fiver and I had the place to myself). I took a wander along to Black Moss Pot, stopping quite often just to stare at the river, the autumn colours, the details and the whole beautiful scene; A life so simple, and yet so full. The following day my indecisiveness led me to many different places, including a petrol station near Kendal where I heard the news on their radio that a songwriter had been awarded the Nobel prize for literature. I'd missed the name first time around, so of course I naturally assumed that it must have been Chris de Burgh. But, on listening a little longer, it soon became apparent. And, in absolute truthfulness, I was so made up I nearly cried, danced around, and had to restrain myself from hugging the person behind me in the queue. C de B aside (plus Paul Simon, & Bono), Bob Dylan is my all time favourite artist, but here favourite seems too cheep a word to describe him. His music, his lyrics, have been the soundtrack to so many different times of my life (perhaps most especially the hard times); it's not always easy to listen to, nor 'enjoyable', but you listen and you get through. Blood on the Tracks. 

Before returning to Eskdale, I called into Workington where I was sold an off-cut of Lino for my van by an Arsenal fan. I also bought some fruit tea cakes for Mick because he told me that he urgently needed one. Perhaps the most exciting purchase that I made though was a £1.99 Where's Wally? mug for Rachel (after Mick had snapped the handle off her old one earlier in the week). I wasn't looking for it, but just happened to find it. Which was more than can be said for Rachel's deliberate attempts to find Wally! "I don't think he's on there, K. Do you think they've forgotten to put him on, and that's why the mug was so cheap? Can you imagine the number of complaints they'll get about that?!" It turns out that amongst Rachel's many skills, Where's Wally? is not one of them.