BB1822
: It's Coming Home. Not!
Wednesday
11th July 2018
It’s
coming home
It’s
coming home…
"Sshhh"
the boys said.
"Don’t
get excited. Remember Cups for Cock-ups?"
Yes,
I do remember; it was a book about my team,
Manchester City and how things didn't exactly
go right for them in a previous era.
Today
there would be Cockups but not, we prayed,
please not on the pitch.
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There
could have been a cockup at the outset as I nearly went
to Cockup which is not where we wanted to be. It
was the wrong Cockup. No adjective. We needed
to go and park at Orthwaite where a decision had to
be made. Did we want a Little Cockup followed
by a Great Cockup? No thanks, one is enough for
a day so let’s make it a big one and get it out of the
way.
Climbing
Great Cockup. Blencathra peeping to left. Bakestall
and Skiddaw to right.
Stan,
Mike and I charged up said Great Cockup then on to Meal
Fell and Great Sca Fell. The weather was mercifully
more like an English summer than the baking ones that
recently we have been enjoying / suffering (delete as
appropriate). The normally boggy ground was as
dry as our garden.
Blencathra
from Knott
We
had made such fast progress that adding the bonus peak
of Knott was a no-brainer. Stan and I were both
wearing gilets- the nearest thing we had to emulate
Gareth’s waistcoats. Was that the secret of our
speed?
Skiddaw
We
even considered a further, and more extensive, detour
to Great Calva but decided against it as for some reason
we didn’t want to be too late coming home, coming home,
BOOTboys
coming home for….. Sshhh, don’t get excited.
Back
we went to Great Sca Fell and Brae Fell, twitting Tony
by text that we were lunching at noon. It was
a bit of a surprise to discover he was in Appleby visiting
his other woman. I thought he would be resting
after his blood-biking stint but no; Lady Ann Clifford
had spoken. Don’t worry, Pat, he’s coming home,
he’s coming home…..
It
wasn’t until we reached Longlands Fell (Wainwright number
7 for the day although one of them, Great Sca Fell,
was visited twice) that we did actually stop, braving
the enormous flies we had seen on the hill.
Skiddaw,
glimpse of Bassenthwaite, then Over Water and Binsey
Criffel,
Scotland
It
had been a grand day on the fells, despite some huge
pesky insects, but the road slog back to the car slightly
took the edge off it.
I
phoned Margaret to tell here we were off the fells and
coming home. "He's coming home, he's coming
home, BOOTboy's
coming home" the others sang, drowning out my message.
We
travelled south, noticing how low Thirlmere was. Hosepipe
bans soon?
"We’re
coming home, we’re coming home" we sang then thought
better of it and stopped off at the Brewery in Staveley
to fortify ourselves for the battle ahead.
"It’s
coming home, it’s coming home" we now sang with
gusto as we reached Kendal.
It’s
coming home, It’s coming home, Football’s
coming home.
But
it didn't.
Don,
Wednesday 11th July 2018
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