Spoilt Victorian Child

A tale of two reservoirs today.

I'd decided to visit Wet Sleddale as I needed to be in Shap, but I'd forgotten how rocky the path around it is and off path was simply a swamp. Poor pooch hated it and I wasn't that keen.

So back in the van and a jaunt to Haweswater along the old water road. Arriving the red squirrels were running along the boundary wall. The woodland here always feels old and wild - lichens hang from ancient trees like wragged witched hair. Parking under Wallow Crag I felt a presence, a big red deer stag watched me from the woods and was gone in a blink, pooch tends to have that effect.

The sky was black so we ambled on woodland trails, but the rain didn't come till much later in the day. Both reservoirs are remarkably full. The inflow on the Southeastern shore made a sound like thunder, yet was oddly peaceful. Im not averse to climbing over a wall when the mood takes me, so I sat a whiles under that brooding sky and contemplated not a lot.

RIP Mark E Smith, angry, funny, noisy - but most of all true to yourself to the end.