Barton

It was a wet morning so I tackled the bathroom and caught up with my sister and confessed I was getting more like our dad with dogged obsession once we get the bit between our teeth. There’s a project in Norwich, so the chair, yes, that chair, might end up making its way back to Norfolk.

Sometimes Cumbria does wet, at other times it does very very wet and then there are the occasions when it does astoundingly staggeringly wet. I got caught in the latter this afternoon when the forecast had tricked me into suggesting there would be a brief sun appearance at 4pm. I went to find new waterproof trousers to replace my not-waterproof ones. No luck, so I headed onto Barton for air. I sat in the car listening to a scary bit of Dracula as the rain hammered down and then took the plunge and headed up to see Lancelot. I had waxed my Scarpa boots before heading out so was disappointed that they leaked in too, it’s only a year since I got them.
You can’t tell how much it’s raining here but I liked the autumn colours and texture with the patterns left from the Bracken cutting and the end of the Roman High Street heading over towards Penrith.