I'm just back from four days away with friends down in Cumbria.  I have been going to these long residential Spring weekends on the edge of the Lake District for well over twenty years and have written a lot about them too ... see for example the sequence of posts from a couple of years' ago beginning ...

It’s about six in the morning.  A cuckoo is calling repeatedly and I’ve just woken.  I’m warm in my sleeping bag, but it’s quite cold in the tent.  How am I feeling?  Frightened!  Externally I’m fine, but when I look inside there’s a constriction.  When I explore it more awarely I get an image of a cold, heavy snake lying down...