Back to Brigadoon!

Before the mists of time remove the memory of......

After such a great escape (albeit 3 days worth) that readjustment back to routine is quite a bind. You go away to recharge your batteries and you do, but come back topped up with a little extra ennui for good measure. Quel dommage.

I digress, 3 go off to Keswick.
Having started off very poorly with slapped wrists for flagging down Wright's Coach at the 'wrong' pick up point and then misplacing or not getting our two open return tickets, we sat down to get comfortable. We managed one local bus stop on our journey before we saw Dad. He'd made the effort to the top of Southway bank to wave us off. That gesture stayed with me all weekend; it took some effort on his part and it was plain he couldn't see us as we passed in a darkened coach. We waved for what good it did.

Back to the pick up; for many years now we had boarded at Denton Burn library without any unpleasantries. Seems they've moved the goalposts and despite making my case at the front of the coach, I was told firmly & politely that he had a timetable to keep & in the confusion no ticket was handed out to me and my 'skin & blister'. I addressed the issue at the stopping point of Alston about an hour and a half after our 9.30ish pick up. I was told to expect a little note and the promise that the other driver on our return would honour our journey back as he couldn't give out a fresh ticket! Smell a rat? Well, without pointing any fingers, they probably get a pittance for the journey anyway, so good luck to them. We'd paid our fare & that was that.

Edna & Gillian had come prepared with two elasticated & magnetized wristbands each to combat their aversion to travel sickness; me, I had an MP3 player - much more fun! Alston came and went, Hartside Pass was negotiated in gorgeous weather and we reached Keswick via Penrith & Greystoke by about 12.40.

The B&B. None of us had much luggage but no one had the facility for wheeling what we did have so despite its lack of weight we eventually found Eskin Street feeling a little tired. Carol & Kev were mein hosts, from Hull originally as we were to find out later, and very ameanable they were too. Cranford House is definately a good choice for a short B&B stay (mind you, renting a cottage is quite probably cheaper over a longer stay)

Lunch, Keswick had finally sucumbed to outside influence with a JD Wetherspoons occupying the site of the old Police Station under the curious name of "The Chief Justice of the Common Pleas". We sampled the environment and left in search of something else. We hit on an American diner further down the main thoroughfare; great service, good food and the music was fine too. We were all in fine mood looking forward to what we knew Keswick had to offer on a bright sunny day and hopefully the following two.

Mother was keen not to stop us doing our own thing and I think we managed a compromise that everybody enjoyed. I got an opportunity to watch some Federer at the local sports bar whilst they sampled the Saturday Market place; a couple of drinks or three round Keswick on the Saturday night with sis and an introduction to Crown Green bowling on the Sunday for Mum and sis.

Walking reasonable distances was the order of the weekend and none better than when we chose to check out the menu at the Pheasant round the back of Fitz Park on Crossthwaite Street. Everybody greets everybody as you pass and the sounds of the river and the backdrop are so relaxing as to make a good time almost inevitable. Punctuated by two phonecalls to Dad to check on his welfare and then watching the world go by from park benches, it really was just what the doctor ordered. We ate well and probably too often but the shackles were off and all the domestic frustration was forgotten for the meantime.

The trip back was to be eventful; having got on the coach without problem on Sunday at 4.20, it started to rain heavily as we left Keswick. It became torrential with only intermittent pauses as we negotiated Hartside and aproached a calmer Alston. Hexham, by contrast, was a deluge and despite the roads camber, the main bus route was covered by water and we were greeted by the occassional light display as we journeyed on. Mother was beset by travel sickness by this time and we had had to stop at Haydon Bridge so she could get some air. Getting off at Lemington Road Ends, we had to wait for a local bus to take us just two stops in the pouring rain and we arrived home damp, a good deal colder, but still having enjoyed a good time in good company. PS Thanks to Rob for going out in rotten weather to see we all made it safely home. Appreciated that.