Friday Morning dawns brightly after a dull week and for the first time in nine days my headache is strangely absent .
I load my silly green ( credentially, rather than visually) car with essentials and drive off to Hexham as soon as the teens have left the premises bound for their Physics exam .
Desert Island Discs starts up and I am soon swearing heavily and loudly at the world and the Nazis who sent Stephanie someone , known thereafter as Steve, on KinderTransport to the UK , to be fostered by Auntie and Uncle for the duration . Fortunately Uncle is GoldDust and Auntie introduced her to music and her parents survive the war . Stephanie is of course not unscathed by any means, suffering depression throughout her life until she is suddently freed from this burden in her sixties. Despite having an autistic son to care for she is so successful in business that she is able to give away fifty million pounds.
I meet my sister in Hexham and we drive on to The Lakes , stopping at Melmerby for lattes and scones en route.
By lunchtime we are in Ambleside, the sun is shining , and by six pm we are walking at the waterfall at Kirkstone , looking at the obelisks .
We try for minutes at a time to take a photographic record of the two of us .
It is not a success.
My sister has the results and on her return to her neck of the woods ( she is currently staying with me) she will forward on .
The teens ask by phone where we are but don't pay attention to our replies and do not find out the details of our running away to Kirren Island until Saturday afternoon .
A lovely escape. We should do this more often . Everyone deserves to escape sometimes.
2 comments:
I have been to the Lake district. I remember Ambleside but not the obelisks or Kirrin Island. Could be old age, sensory overload at the time or whatever, Pleasant memories none the less (Even though I was suffering some back pain at the time, nothing better than walking)
The obelisks were just some stone that was being carved at Kirkstone Gallery . And Kirren Island is a fantasy place created by Enid Blyton where five children and a dog habitually escaped to . It didn't make the States yet? Whenever the going gets tough we escape to Kirren Island.
I recommend it .
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