Fun, fear and flood

Last week we drove down to the Lake District

and stayed in a house with this view from the back garden, with our walking friends.

On the first morning, we walked up from Rosthwaite. It was a lovely day and the views were spectacular.

Naturally we had to stop now and then to admire them.

 Up

and up

 and up

and up.

Then we started going down again

and we thought:

 this is a comparative doddle.

But then it wasn't. It became impossible to take photos because we were descending on rock - well, you might call them steps, but they were very steep and slanting and unevenly spaced, so that some of them were quite far apart, and you had to keep your eyes firmly on your feet because the risk of falling was considerable. We're all seventyish and it wouldn't have been convenient to break a leg. This went on for a good half hour. It seemed more.

However, none of us did break anything, mercifully, and we got down safely. After quite a long further walk, we returned to the car park.

The house is very nice - we were there last year too - but sadly, there was something wrong with the hot water - there had been none the night before or that morning. But hurray, hurray, the owners of the house managed to persuade a plumber to come out, and the hot water had been restored by the time we got back. Someone who shall be nameless managed to cause a minor flood by not noticing that the drain to his shower cubicle was (invisibly) blocked, but after a lot of mopping, the water had stopped dripping out of the downstairs light fitting and all was well.

And that was the first day.