Blencathra

… again … maybe never again.
I hadn’t intended to go up and I’m not quite sure how I ended up doing it. Can’t say I particularly enjoyed it; a slog with the constant drone of the A66 until I was on the summit ridge. Every time I do it, it irritates me. I was about to give up about half way up when I remembered P deciding to go up on his birthday at the same age after having his terminal diagnosis a few months before. He did it secretly, waiting until I’d gone to work, because he knew I’d fret. I decided I’d better get it over and done with if he’d done it and the larks were busy ascending and descending so I plodded on with a Vaughan Williams ear worm all the way to the top which I had to entirely to myself, as well as the long descent with hip and knees hating me. To add insult to injury a woman who looked a lot older than me ran down as I was going up. She asked if I’d seen a purple bag that she’d dropped. She said she only realised when she’d got to the bottom so she had run back up again to see if she could find it. She looked bright as a button. I certainly didn’t.

Morning spent contacting a different solicitor about Will and LPA. I hadn’t felt comfortable about the other one online which had come via a link from the work seminar. I’d ended up dealing with someone down south and felt I’d rather stick with someone local.