Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Smoked Banjo.



We had relatives over from Italy last week – the missus's brother and his 3 daughters.  They've enjoyed coming over a couple of times over the past year or two and always find something to do.

Whether it's in the Greater Manchester area or beyond we have a whole host of wonderful locations right on our eye steps.  Unfortunately they were only here for a couple of days this time, so we couldn't plan for trips further afield.  York's always worth a trip to and with them living in Italy a fine place to discover England's heritage and history.  I'd bet they'd love the ghost walks they do in this tiny city, either that or they'd be scarred to life what with being staunch Catholics...perhaps best not go there.

About the same amount of travel would get us up to the Lake District.  Little more than 90 mins away from Central Manchester, the Lakes are an absolutely stunning pocket of England.  Genuinely  breathtaking scenery and extraordinarily well kept countryside: I much prefer the hilly topography of the lakes to the dull insipid regions of the South & East (and indeed the Cheshire Plain).  

We occasionally stick an oversized dome tent in the motor and take a trip up there for the weekend.  There's plenty of well managed sites up there and we've found a corker just outside Windermere (the lake of which you can see from parts of the site).  Waking up in the fresh air and letting your eyes feast upon such glorious views is really charming and life affirming.  

It all feels a bit like those American films from the 70's and 80's where they head out with their 'buddies' and 'buds' for a spot of fishing and male bonding before being targeted by a local half breed....except I've got my family with me and if I'm lucky I might grab a bottle of local raspberry wine and pretend to be Burt Reynolds when I head off to collect some water for the stove.

I did manage a bit of fishing though.  It was at the local trout farm and it is more akin to pretend fishing.  You'd drop your line in a netted area practically littered with trout.  I somehow managed to get my line caught in the boundary net several times; crossed with other fishing lines and didn't get one bite.  I looked like a bent hammock at the end of the session but purchased some 'pre-dead and gutted' trout from the fishing shop.  A spun yarn later and the whole family is impressed with my manly skills (apart from the the elder daughter in on the act).

We'll no doubt be back up there again this summer.  

I'll watch my copy of Deliverance just before I go.

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