Rope bridge crossing (slight return)

I was dissatisfied with my photo on Sunday, which looked a bit like a wooden praying mantis, so I took this as we were leaving, today. You never know with these places how they will turn out to be but this is somewhere I wish were staying at for a bit longer. 

As with festivals, I quite like the camp life, just as long as there's a decent shower and toilets. I am, I guess, the archetypal "glamper".

Back to civilisation, this evening, though for a night out in Kirkby Lonsdale with Bob, his son, and his friend, Paul, who I haven't seen for probably twenty years. And it was absolutely great. Drinks and tapas at Number Nine, more drinks in Platos, and finishing up in the Royal for more bites and final beers. 

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‘A History Of Seven Killings’ by Marlon James