Steaming On Coniston (October 1st 2006)

We went to Coniston so that The Screature could go to the Ruskin Museum for some sticking needles into cloth. That left us to go up The Old Man. (Sounds a bit rude!)

The weather wasn't too hot and looked like we could get drenched at any minute, so after Hairy had dropped off the S, he went for a bun and cuppa at the lakeside cafe to have a rethink. While we were sitting there Io said she could smell La'al Ratty. I was just about to dis her sniffability when I got a whiff too. There was a huge whiff of La'al Ratty. It was the Coniston Lake Steamer.

Yup. It's a steam boat that goes on the lake. Io wanted to know where they put the tracks. I think she does it on purpose to just wind me up. I told her she was a daft dog. This gave Hairy a great idea. We'd have a boat ride and zoom back across the lake shore. The boat is called Gondola and looks really smart. On board there's a similar smell to a steam engine but without the oily niff. We got loads of fuss from some visiting Americans who were just driving round the water.

Here I am watching the boat whizz off into the water. It's a floating jetty which wobbles really well when you walk on it. Io wasn't a bit worried walking along the deck but was dead scared coming off... wuss.



The walk back to Coniston was a hell of a lot quicker than even Hairy anticipated. It was probably the thought of a bite to eat at the Black Bull Inn - which happens to be the home of the Coniston Brewery - which put Hairy into overdrive rather than his usual saunter.

We actually hit the pub about 90 minutes before H had planned. He was very chuffed. It meant that he could have a few more jars of Bluebird! He was even more chuffed when he found out that the menu included a Meat and Tatie Pie. He had a huge piece of M&T and got a side portion of chips. We were slipped chips under the table. H makes a mean meat and tatie pie - it's his mum's recipe! We don't get much when he makes it.

The anticipated weather finally happened. While we were sat outside the heavens opened and chucked buckets at us. Luckily, we were under a mega brolly and didn't need to shift at all. We could watch all the grockles rushing past getting soaked while we stayed dry and chomped chips.

Sadly three jars of neck oil put Hairyface over the limit so The S had to drive home! To say she was unchuffed was the height of meiosis (as the H may say at his job). She doesn't throw us around as much as Hairy does but we took much longer to hit Gilcrux.

This stage is right opposite the point where Donald Campbell's Bluebird crashed.

H did take a picture of the spot, but it's just water really and doesn't make a good pic.

It's all about being there I suppose.
H promised us that we'd go up The Old Man the next time we were in Coniston. (Sadly, I don't think we'll head that far south until next Easter.)