Apr17 (Thurs)

I am the first one up, and I kindly make tea for anyone else who wants it (H and Emsy) Heather is next out of the bed and decides to go off swimming.. The kids are reluctant to rise, and even more reluctant to get on board with the itinerary, which will consist of a further visit to the lakes, but this time with the walking boots pulled on.
We decide to let them stay and enjoy the swimmiing and tennis facilities, and we depart for the hills.
Before we leave though, there is excitement aplenty as Emsy and Flo return from the arcade with a giant "Tigger"!!! She's grabbed it. Having seen the success rates on those things this is truly beyond belief!
We drive, and seek out the smaller routes which have "pass"names rather than road numbers on the map. the roads, many of which I must have travelled before on Simon White led walking expiditions, are truly tiny and as we head higher and deeper into the hills they become more and more tortuous. They are truly a challenging drive, and must be really frightening if the roads start to get icy, as they must with some regularity.
Fresh snow has fallen on the higher peaks. It's not lush, alpine, cake icing thick stuff, but a good sprinkling of sugar nonetheless. The hills are wild and beautiful, the roads we share with indifferent sheep.
Suddenly the peace of the wilderness is shattered as two RAF jets hurtle overhead , their bellies almost scraping the tops of the mountains. What a buzz that must be. To do that just once in a lifetime must be something else. Just imagine having to play with a toy like that every day.
we head down from the hills and decide to pop down and have a look at Sellafield.
It looks fairly ominous as we approach but the sheep in the surrounding fields all seem to have the requisite number of heads and legs. But then! Cars are flying away from the place in their swarms. It must mean meltdown! But no, more prosaiicly it's four a clock and time to go home.We've missed the visitor centre so we'llnever know how safe we can sleep in our beds.
The drive home is stunning. A real drive, and I am glad to have H's car with a bit of grunt to enjoy it. It'd certainly have been a challenge to my little thing.
We stop on the way home for tea. I am tired and I make the mistake of kipping in the car and leaving the radio on. The battery is flat! Fortunately it's had no time to get cold, and a push down a little slope gets it going.
I hear on the news that Surrey are playing Lancashire. Another sign of spring time, and very welcome. Back in Lancashire itself, the weather could pass for November at it's best. No shortage of sunshine but a perishing wind and bitter cold.
Flo cooks the evening meal, and full credit too her. A pasta, cheese and bacon bake. It is delicious. The kids head off to the arcade and H goes too. I finish off my book. A good read. It's always worrying reading about someone you admire and instinctively like. You might found out a bit too much that you didn't want to hear. Not the case with Stan though. Yes, it was written by a sympathiser, but no one seems to have had a bead word to say about the brilliant buffoon.