Day 7 Bowness – Sep 18th, 2013
We had the day off. Since this was my third visit to Bowness, I was not champing at the bit to dash off in the rain.
I slept late and generally dozed until 08:00, finally going down to breakfast at 08:45 just finishing before the 09:30 cut off. I filled out the mandatory dinner menu selection sheet and took it to reception. I have not found out what happens if you fail this test.
One year from today, 18 Sep 2014, the Scottish people will have have a referendum. The question is very straightforward. To wit:
“Should Scotland be an independent country?”
From my four months on a British ship last winter, my memory tells me that the Darien Scheme, whereby the Kingdom of Scotland tried to establish a colony on the Isthmus of Panama in about 1700 resulted in a bankrupt Scotland. About one quarter of the money in circulation in Scotland went down the drain. England bailed them out by forcing the Acts of Union of 1707 and 1708.
Since it was pouring rain, I decided to stay at the hotel until things improved. With the help of the clerk at reception, I was able to post the blogs from the previous two days.
At breakfast I spotted an RAF fighter making a low pass down Lake Windemere. I was surprised as I would have thought the local land owners would object.
While this area is quite picturesque, and is certainly peaceful, I could never live here as the perpetual gloom would leave me very morose.
I basically spent from after breakfast to about 13:30 transcribing my notes into the blog. There had been no sense trying to go for a walk as bands of heavy rain kept passing through. I sat in the downstairs lounge with a good view of the steamer landing. Once in a while it would clear enough for me to take a photo. But mainly, the weather was grisly.
I had a late lunch in my room, dining on scraps from breakfast and savouring hot cups of tea.
By 14:00 I had cabin fever. I waited in the lounge until things brightened and then took off wearing clothes as if it was a fall day in Ontario. I was lucky as a brief burst of sun gave me enough time to get the mandatory postcard shots of the hotel and the steamer dock.
As I walked up the hill into the shopping zone, I witnessed a very near miss. One vendor’s booth stuck out onto the sidewalk forcing pedestrians to within two feet of the road. Just as a man was passing this restricted space, a coach with those huge elephant ear rear view mirrors whipped by the mirror missing his head by six inches.
I went into several outdoor clothing shops, but I really was not interested in a mountain tent or a sleeping bag. I have seen lots of people with the walking sticks, but they are just too impractical for travel. In the local franchise of the Edinburgh Woollen Mill (they are in every small town) I was tempted by a dark red fleecy. Coming to my senses, I realized I was buying for the cold local conditions and that I would have no use for such an item in my next trips to Jordan, Morocco, Guatemala, Costa Rica and Burma.
After about 45 minutes, during which time I had feverishly tried to grab local colour photos, my luck ran out and the bumper chute went up.
I slunk back to my hotel having failed to give a visiting woman directions to local toilets. That of course is the bane of visiting a strange place. The local chambers of commerce hide all the toilets so you will be forced into eating establishments to buy something in order to use the facilities. So far our toilet salvation has been coach parking lots and local bus stations.
We had the normal dinner at 19:00 and I must say that the food at this hotel has been very good. Added to which, we have a very compatible group of seasoned travellers so the conversation has been enriching.
Over dinner I heard an excellent definition of bagpipes. They are:
“An ill wind that blows nobody good.”
After dinner we had clog dancing put on by a local group. I had had this experience before in Harrowgate, Yorkshire and it is a very acquired taste. I wore my earplugs and took the appropriate photos.
But, did you know that Charlie Chaplin was a clog dancer? Or that Stan Laurel was a member of the famous Lancaster Lads?
The Travels of David Ironsides 