I’m off work and have headed to the Lake District for a break, to get some fresh air, enjoy the stunning scenery, and pay outrageous prices for a cappuccino.
I’m having a grand time, the highlight of which was something that happened on a 16-mile ramble around Coniston.
It was a dismal day (it’s July in the UK, of course it was dismal), an unpleasant rain was steadily falling and there was a chilly wind.
My friend and I were in the act of having a vigorous debate about whether Lake Windermere was actually a lake (I said it was; I was wrong. Of the 16 lakes in the Lake District, only one – Bassenthwaite – is officially a Lake; the others are meres or waters … who said this column wasn’t a fascinating read?)
Then walking towards us we saw a woman, who looked – and I’m not being nasty here – like she’d been in a fight.
She was about 70, walked with a heavy limp, and was wearing – in the pouring rain – a drenched jumper, and grey jogging bottoms covered in mud.
I was about to enquire whether she was Ok – I was genuinely worried about her – but she got in first and said, in conspiratorial manner, ‘just to warn you…’
In my head, such was the state of her, I genuinely thought she was about to say there was a bull loose in a field and she’d just been near-fatally attacked.
Instead she said, ‘there’s a group of naturists up ahead’.
Source: Portsmouth News
Original publication 10 July, 2020
Posted on NatCorn 30th July 2020
Reference to an article does not infer endorsement of any views expressed.