After a bit of soul-searching about whether or not I really wanted to go, and right-up-to-getting-in-the-car wobblies about coming home early, I actually went on holiday.
It’s increasingly a yearly tradition – Me and Best Friend and his parents get a holiday cottage somewhere (First one was at Ullswater in a converted barn, second was at Whitby in a big shed on a caravan park, this one was a ground-floor flat in what had been a gentleman’s residence overlooking Esthwaite) and have a nice, chilled-out week doing touristy stuff.
This time, even more so than the previous times, it was fucked up by me being incredibly mentally ill.
Day one, I stayed in my room and refused to talk to anyone, having a full-on “I want to take my body off and never put it back on again” level of badness.
Day two was good – Finding somewhere to sit around the banks of Coniston, with lots of damselflies and Herdwick sheep and generally just nice weather and scenery.
Day three was a boat trip on Ullswater, on the same steamer as the first time, which was wonderfully relaxing – Just sitting on the quarterdeck, admittedly spending part of the time lying flat on my back and staring up at the sky because sitting upright was too much for my spine. Then trying to go up the path to the youth hostel on Helvellyn, which I failed and basically collapsed during, needing such a vast amount of morphine that I was entirely a turnip on the way home.
Day four was recovering from that, pootling about the grounds of the house where there was so much wildlife; Tree-creepers, greater spotted woodpeckers (A whole family of them!) a young buzzard, an osprey catching a fish from the lake and then slowly circling up, giving us a good view of it as it flew off, a muntjac looking very furtive, a young slow-worm basking on the wall, a vole that wasn’t even slightly scared of humans, and plenty of swifts and swallows and other birds that would have been a headline-spot back home. Still, largely, just sitting in the corner and wibbling a bit, and planning to go home early.
Day five was rowing boats on Esthwaite, variously taking turns to try to row and/or paddle, which I did surprisingly well at and didn’t end up in the water at all. Desperately wanting to go home, but electing to stay because however stressed I felt, I’d probably feel worse if I wasn’t allowed to show how worried I was about politics. And then, at 21.50, we instituted a media blackout, so as not to get completely caught up in the referendum (us all having postal-voted weeks ago). Instead, we watched Rome and enthused about the Marian reforms and ancient mass-production of things like segmented lorica and single-use amphorae. We got to sleep at about 02.00.
At 04.30 on day six I woke up to go to the toilet and checked my phone to see how the results were coming in. I then lay back down, making an uncontrollable noise of distress, which woke up Best Friend. I tried to pass it off as just a shoulder spasm, letting him sleep a bit longer, but within about fifteen minutes he was waking up, and asked point-blank if I knew the result yet, since I was reading. I told him, and then we were both awake and miserable and angry. At about 5.30, we heard the others moving around the kitchen, getting coffee, so apparently nobody had any sleep that night.
Not to be deterred, but wanting to avoid all people, we went to the miniature railway at Ravenglass and Eskdale and avoided getting on it, instead taking plenty of photos in the station and the rail yard, then slowly made our way down to the ruins of the Roman bath at Muncaster. Despite the first half of the day having tiny locomotives – Combining two of my favourite things, trains and things which are the wrong size – I actually think that the bath was my favourite part of the day. They’ve got the distinction of being the tallest standing Roman ruins in England, and they were both amazingly complete and amazingly empty and untouched; Other than a tiny signpost saying roughly what they were, they were just some stone walls standing in a field. Stone walls, with square relieving arches, and surviving Roman plaster, and alcoves for the god of the bath, and the remains of the hypercaust visible near the caldarium, and a long green depression in the grass where the frigidarium would once have been, and just generally a wonderful sense of peace and being far away from the horrors of modernity. And we got to the Cumbrian coast, with its odd green clay pebbles and huge plates of broken bivalve shells, and happy Friesian cattle and alpacas grazing right up to the tide line.
On the way back to the flat, there were buzzards everywhere, and pretty bikes on the road, and generally the world seemed fine as long as we just avoided all human contact. But, well, all human contact needed avoiding.
The Sunday after getting back home, I went for a long ride out on the bike, basically circumnavigating the county before ending up in the biker cafe on the border. It was, frankly, a beautiful day. Blue skies, grass and fields just starting to turn from green to gold in places, and a cafe and field and car park full of happy bikers and their families, eating ice creams, enjoying the sunshine, snoozing on the grass, admiring each other’s machines. I parked up between a glorious triked Rocket 3 and a red Aprillia that looked like a wasp, bought a baked potato and a bottle of Lucozade, then sat on the hill overlooking the entire field, generally enjoying simultaneously being surrounded by people and being left basically alone.
Then the Monday was Attempt Two on the Mod 1 – Did not pass; Honestly think I was set up to fail, having not had a chance to ride the bike at all beforehand, but at least I had a nice paper of chips and nearly witnessed my riding instructor buying a lifesize fibreglass gorilla for the garden. Have booked back in for the 19th of July, at 08.00, which feels a bit early in the day to be doing anything at all. But needs must when the devil drives.
Tomorrow is an appointment at rheumatology- Firstly, I have no idea what for, but presumably this is my usual standing appointment, and secondly, I really don’t want to go since I don’t want to think about being ill right now any more than I really have to.