The Scar

The lovely Whitbarrow Scar. Backdrop to my life from the age of 8 when we moved to The Row, a tiny hamlet on the flank of the fell. Whitbarrow is not your typical Lake District mountain, but a large limestone "scar" running along the Lyth Valley. Scout Scar, which is the other border to the valley, is where we got married.

Whitbarrow is special for lots of reasons, not least because it was my Mum's favourite place. Her ashes are scattered at a tiny cairn part of the way up (not at the top, "Lord's Seat", but somewhere slightly more secret...and slightly more easily reached by young grandchildren). I think it might be more or less where the sun is setting, but maybe that is just me being romantic.

Things that have made me laugh my socks of today include Milo playing I Spy in a pub:

Milo: "I spy with my little eye, something brown and chair-y"
Sam: "erm....a chair?"
Milo: "YES!"
*dances a jig in celebration of daddy's guessing skills*

And his question of the day number 4,367,281:

"Daddy, are unicorns savoury or sweet?"

I laughed so much I fell off my brown chairy thing.