I was away for a weekend with some very old friends, more like my familly really. We go semi annually, or did pre -covid, this was our first trip in what, two years.
Generaly we sojourn to some cottage/farm type establishment in Yorkshire or the Lake district, consume lots of food, drink, and talk the nonsense that only the very oldest of friends can share. Weather allowing, there is usually some light exercise between breakfast (where no prisoners are taken) and crumpets (to sustain us untill dinner in case of hunger).
We have stayed at many charming venues, some more modern, some virtual castles, some “humble abodes”. This particular location was in the “middle of nowhere” ( seemingly an official part of West Riding Yorkshire) , requiring our several party members to crest mountains, ford rivers, navigate through clouds, and in general cross the rest of nowhere in order to find it.
After a Friday, where there was some speculation that we had, infact, come to the hidden vale from which every raincloud ever was spawned and sent forth to the rest of the world, Saturday brought an astonishingly beautiful day (“idyllic” some might say). Low November sun dazzled along the valley and lent the scattered farms and villages an unreal pastoral glamour, like gazing on the Shire.
This all sounds very relaxing, nae even positive I hear you say, and indeed, it is ever a balm in this crazy life to spend time with old friends, and breathe the cleaner air of different climes.
It is the quality of the company we go for, and with that we can (and have) endured many minor discomforts. No location (thus far) has been perfect, whether for access (it says down the rutted trail and across the field….which rutted trail?), proximity to wildlife (THere’s a cowshed at back door!), interfering landlords (they could have waited ’till we’d actually left before stripping the beds), or inadequate kitchen equipment (Somebody brought a masher?please tell me somebody brought a potato-masher?). Plus many of our homes from home have that “rustic charm” of “warm” water (eventually) and creaky stairs,floorboards and beds.
This particular dwelling came with it’s own special challenge, which left a lasting “impact” or several members of the party;
For some (looking at you Colette and Kay!) there was no issue, for others, disadvantaged like myself, it was on ongoing battle of attrition.
My hats hide most of the scars.
Next week on IaDL, it’s going to be the big C festival.
Dalmallyfest the Asylum 