Windermere. Home of the "Funkiest B&B in the Country" Winner 2009-2010. There appear to be more guesthouses, hotels and their ilk than private residences. There is also a distinct shortage of stamps. Local supplies have completely dried up. Don't they know tourist season is now in full swing? Surely people will want to send postcards to their loved ones. Missed opportunity, Windermere. Missed opportunity.
A warm and friendly welcome from Ian, the proprietor of my abode for cup final Saturday (a B&B, but less funky). Christine "guessed I was a walker". No cooking or preparing food in the bedrooms ("tends to be the Asians"). Roast on the radiator? Steamed veg in the shower? Also, who in their right mind serves up six slices of toast to a single guest? I just consumed a generous bowl of corn flakes, a couple of helpings of freshly-squeezed orange juice, a none-too-shabby fry-up and a kettle-sized pot of tea. Immediately I imagine being in a couple and wondering what to do with TWELVE slices of toast. How many is too many to leave? A family with two point four children gets somewhere between 26 and 27 slices. But I showed them. Oh, I showed them and no mistake.
Stroll down to The Lake on Sunday morning. Here they have stamps. Did I just pay £3 for six stamps? I could get 2 litres of (unleaded) petrol and a box of matches for less but, granted, I would be rather less successful at sending things via the post. Still, a barrel of the finest crude is, in spite of everything going on in the world, cheaper than a barrel of stamps. Went to the local franchise outlet of the nation's favourite coffee shop and drew cartoons of my experiences.
Moved on to a hostel above Windermere and met Yamoto, a landscape gardener from the southern part of Japan who had recently been in London. Through a combination of (English) words and pictures, and his rather useful Japanese-English dictionary, we discussed feudal Japan, Ironworks, the right to protest outside parliament, monarchy and the Chelsea Flower Show and, using his recently-captured photo collection, I got to show him where my Dad worked for the majority of his career ("Father's Company") and the church where, I'm led to believe, one of my ancestors was married (St. Martin's in the Field).
Monday was spent strolling from the hostel over the hills to Ambleside and back again. I spent most of the day in the clouds despite a general lack of substantial elevation and will assume the views from the top of Wansfell Pike were spectacular. I also somehow managed to clock my heart rate at 132 which I think is about double its normal setting. I didn't have a heart attack though.
Tuesday I got an urge for animal perusal, so bought a 'use as many buses as you like in one day' pass and, through a series of unlikely connecting services, got myself ten minutes stroll from the gates of Trotters World of Animals. It was slightly better than anything the famous Peckham brothers could have put together. The Gibbons were the undoubted stars of the show, their human-like games and manly gait raising knowing smiles amongst the seven patrons who chose to visit that afternoon. I also got to see birds of prey work for their dinner, meerkats audition for TV work and (captive) wild boars sit about in their enclosure.
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