Wednesday 5th August 2020, 4.35pm (day 3,268)
An innovative approach to keeping oneself, one’s beer and one’s smoking materials free from moisture. The weather could not decide what to do this afternoon.
A dull day in every sense. Also the last day of life for this chilli plant, which as you can see has put all of its efforts into this single great fruit, and spent itself like the one-hit-wonder pop group. The chilli went today into a very nice curry; and the plant, with our thanks, was put out of its misery.
The square reflected in the roundel, these posts standing outside the Shoulder of Mutton pub, happily reopened, after not just the c*r***v**** crap but the floods of Feb 9th as well. You see, we need economic activity here. Which is why this new ‘local lockdown’ has had no discernible effect at all.
This is a kind-of self-portrait: look closely enough into the mirror and I’m there in the background.
It’s been nice to come down to London for a couple of days, the weather’s been good and I have met friends and had decent exercise. But there’s been something eerie about it, unnatural and wrong. Difficult to do much else today than post another picture of somewhere that should be very busy on this day and time under normal circumstances, but instead, echoed like an empty cathedral.
London is, without a doubt, one of the two main financial centres of the known universe, and also a city that should be heaving with tourists at this time of year — particularly on a gloriously sunny day like this.
And it’s dead. We’re in big trouble. Ignore the politicians — they can’t think more than a week ahead.
In 24 hours I translocate from Cumbria and its sub-arctic conditions to the tropics of London, where it is about 30ºC. This sun-drenched scene is taken from outside McGlynn’s pub, which has featured on the blog two years ago (as linked). Then, there were people. Now, the place is only half-alive, which I guess I have not yet got used to and hope never to do so.
The sun deigned to make a brief appearance this morning, shining on the chairs of the breakfast room at our hotel. Though it was the last chance to see it on our trip to Eskdale, as we were back in Hebden by lunchtime. But even if the weather has been somewhat dubious, how good was it to have got away for a while.
This guy was very helpful today — not because he offered us direction as such, but because his bright orange and yellow gear was later seen heading up Harter Fell, our destination for the day, and this helped reveal the correct path. Hence the value of hi-vis. A good walk today but I never seem to experience Eskdale in truly good weather.
The beauty of Cumbria is not entirely found in its lakes and mountains. The coast is also very fine. After a terrible morning’s weather put the high country out of bounds, we got out anyway and Sandscale Haws, near Barrow, gave us something to enjoy as the weather cleared. Joe practices his ballet moves, it seems.