Despite freezing temperatures and occasional impressive hail storms, the sun shone. And shone. We walked. And walked. And cycled. And pedalled. And played Monopoly. And Scrabble. For hours.

Pedometer: over 10,000 steps per day, even when cycling! (Tells you something about the number of hills I had to walk up rather than ride, but never mind…)

We got the Saturday Guardian and The Observer. Dig it. We read them. Mostly. E read them. Mostly. M did the activity page. Mostly.

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Some eye candy. I wish I could do justice to the place. But I always have to try, try to capture some element of something.

The wood around Coniston, about which my poem, Bluebell Wood, is written. Only this is before the bluebells are out. Obviously.

The ‘Purple Walk’ above Coniston Water. The wood about which I wrote the poem ‘Bluebell Wood’ in How to Be a Dragonfly. Only it’s not quite bluebell time. Obviously.

Taken by E along the flat walk from Skelwith Bridge to Elterwater.

Another taken by E: R and M on the way back to Skelwith Bridge in sudden snow.

From the top of Silver How, near Grasmere. After a rather winding, windy and steep way up, met with fast travelling clouds and a 360 view.

The staggeringly beautiful Buttermere, revisited after several years. A long, sunny relaxed walk around with lots of stone skipping and the odd nap.

Nearing the end of the day on Buttermere. The children scratched their names on stones and propped them against tree trunks. We longed for cans of warm gin & tonic!

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