Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'It's because of your weight advantage,' said Ben.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, you're fatter so you get more momentum down the hills.'
'Shut up. You're just slow because the massive knob on your head creates lots of wind
resistance.'
'Well your man boobs flap around like aeroplane propellers giving you extra speed.'
Conversations between Ben and me were rarely more mature than this. We did once
have a discussion about politics, but it was based around the unlikely scenario that we had
toshag either JohnPrescott orMargaret Thatcher inordertosave the human race. Weboth
reluctantly agreed on Maggie.
We reached the village of Glenridding at about 3pm. We referred to it as 'Glen-rid-a-
ding-ding' because we thought it was amusing. Looking back, it is less so now.
Glen-rid-a-ding-ding is a little village on the edge of Ullswater - the second largest lake
in the Lake District. Many people consider Ullswater to be the most beautiful of the lakes,
and Wordsworth described it as,
'the happiest combination of beauty and grandeur, which
any of the lakes affords.'
As well as the lure of Ullswater, Glen-rid-a-ding-ding (maybe it will get funnier if I re-
peat it) is also a popular base for hikers, as it sits at the bottom of one of the popular routes
up Helvellyn - England's third highest peak, behind Scafell and Scafell Pike.
The village (Glen-rid-a-ding-ding, that is) was a pleasant mixture of traditional build-
ings and modern convenience, with an outdoor store, gift shop and a tourist information.
Weparkeduponapatchofgrassjustbeyondthevillage,andstrippeddowntoourboxer
shorts. We then waded into the water up to our waists. It was ball-clenchingly cold. Within
nanoseconds my testicles had retreated up inside of me and my Glen-rid-a-ding-ding had
shrivelled to the size of a cigarette butt. I squealed like a girl.
'Looks nice in there?' said an elderly lady who was walking along the bank with her
husband.
'It's... ah... ah... certainly... ah... ah... refreshing,' said Ben.
'You should join us,' I said.
'Maybe next time,' she laughed.
The Glenridding Mini-Market was an unbelievable shop. It was packed to the ceiling
with everything that you could ever want to buy, and plenty of stuff that you would never
want to buy.
'We get some odd-bods in this shop, but we've never had people doing what you're do-
ing?' said the lady behind the counter, after we told her our story.
HernamewasAvrilandshelookedlikeshewasborntorunavillageshop.Idon'tmean
that in a belittling way. She just looked like exactly the sort of person that you would want
to buy your daily paper or provisions from; a warm and friendly smile, a calming relaxed
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