Summer time (part 3)
P3: Penrith
We stayed in a large country house set in the green rolling hills of the Cumbrian countryside. The day we drove out of London the rain was pelting it down, but by the time we reached the long gravel driveway the clouds had dispersed, and the sun was setting in a peach-coloured sky.
The sacred holiday stillness had arrived.
Our holiday home was set on private land with the River Eden running through it. A wide flowing river which at certain angles looked like a Chinese ink landscape painting. This made me ponder whether landowners could actually own rivers? It struck me as a shame that most people wouldn’t be allowed to see this part of the majestic river.1 Our little gang walked through the wet grasses and along mossy footpaths, the two dogs sniffing and pointing the way as if there was no tomorrow.
I slept a lot, ate and read. The dream. Stroked the dogs, stretched in the mornings. In the afternoons we walked up hills and down valleys. There were many sheep.
The biggest challenge I embarked on was driving the car! (I don’t enjoy driving but I understand it is a pragmatic engagement.) I think, progressively I got better and was shrieking less around the bends as the week went on, yet I still pinged the wing mirror of a Warburtons van in a narrow village lane.
There was no signal in the large country pile, which was a blessing. I took it as a prompt to try not to engage with my phone. Sometimes, when I’m scrolling and poking my rectangular screen, I feel like melted cheese that’s hardened and I wanted to not feel like that on my country holiday. I breathed in and out and stared at other things instead.
Here are some things I strongly noticed (without a phone to distract me):
A big juicy brat green and black striped dragonfly hovering around an ornamental pond. Huge globular eyes. Never seen one like it in my life.
The urge to drink a pulled pint of Guinness in the pub when I saw another punter ordering one at the bar.
Western house martins (which I thought were swallows) swooping under the eaves of the house working all day to feed their hungry chicks. The chicks would squall and poop as if their lives depended on it, which they sort of did.
Really big skies which threw off my sense of scale. I couldn’t work out if something in the distance was the size of a person, a house or a skyscraper. It’s quite nice occasionally to feel like a pinprick on the surface of the earth.
Read about my 3 P’s of summer time:
P3: Penrith
I looked it up and turns out there’s an ancient law called Riparian Rights where yes, private landowners can own sections of a river, but not the actual water that flows through it.