Ullswater

... but not as we know it.
I confess I just swam and cried.
I finished work, the Veneerings had been on full form, my friend picked me up watching the little boy in the holiday cottage looking askance out the window as she waited for me to gather my gear. They had just arrived this afternoon. Not nice for a young family arriving for their holiday.
We headed down to Pooley. It was busy. Parked up and walked along. We decided to go a bit further than the first spot we saw with the plastic tampon applicator and bag of dog shit. We found a place and changed. It felt exposing and public. We swam it was shallow and weedy, and then, further out, in and around moored boats swinging rather wildly in the wind. It was much more exposed and had none of the intimacy of the protected, hugging little shore we have become so used to. It felt less clean as it was amongst so much more boating life. This monster brute roared as we swam and churned up water as it was pulled back up onto its trailer.
It was rough and cold and miserable. And that was after the day that had felt the same and metaphorically way out of my depth all day. I just wanted to get back. We sat and drank tea and ate digestives and I felt a bit better as the ducks joined us for some crumbs but we decided we probably need to try somewhere else, or at least head on a bit further.
Home to a phone-call from my neighbour who is back home in the northeast but trying to negotiate the sewer problem with utilities. It’s proving to be a bit of a headache.
Sewer talk, one step on from gutter talk.