So far we (me n Signe) have been up Snowdon, Ben Nevis, Scarfell Bastard Pike (real name).
We have hunted fairies n witches cauldrons n swum with Dragons n in Rob Roys Bathtub. (Yes really)
Each Christmas, for many years, me n my dearest friend give each other the gift of time.
In real terms, what this means is, the following summer, we will set aside time to have an adventure. More often than not, we know long before Christmas comes what the next adventure will be.
(Next year we are swimming The Gulf of Corryvreckan - hopefully there and back... we are not swimming *TO* the Gulf - just across it - swimming to it would be just silly)
Gradually it's got dafter n dafter.... But I wouldn't have it any other way. It is unique to us... And I love that. And I love her.
The adventures invariably involve a lump of land to walk up n a lump of water to bobble in. We sleep under canvass for a long weekend. We cook one night n feast in a pub the following.
Last year we had a Christmas buffet of brown party food with crackers n carols.
This year we had Christmas dinner pie.
An actual Christmas dinner.
IN A PIE
It was amazing.
Properly amazing.
It had layers of potatoes, carrot and swede mash, quorn fillet pieces, stuffing, sprouts and cranberry sauce. IN A PIE.
Then we had mince pie to finish.
ALL the pastry may have been a touch excessive.... But it's Christmas!! Who cares.
We may also have had all the cheese.
Meh.
We had Christmas beer n juice shipped from Norway specially n stockings full of treaty sweety goodness.
There may have also been Lego.
And bubbles.
And tent decorations.
Some people simply don't get it n think we're absolutely barking (or on drugs).... And then occasionally, some people *do* get it.
In all it's gloriousness.....And they join in.
My friend Caroline asked if she could send a parcel for Christmas.
Erm? Let me think? Hmmm? Goodies?
Oh, go on then!
Of course I will greedily accept most parcels. Especially home made Christmas camping ones with wrapping paper n stockings in!
The box contained individual Christmas parcels which each had special destructions for when to be opened.
IT WAS BRILLIANT AND PERFECT!!
Now, I have previously blogged that I'm not the biggest fan of Christmas. And I stand by that. But generally the one I dislike is the winter one that's rammed down your throat from August Bank Holiday
Christmas this way is personal. It is not about expense. The whole idea is, it's as cheap as possible and we do stuff we both love. We build memories n have a nice time being in the outside. We share something unique.
And we eat lots of brown food.
We climbed a hill.
And sat a bit.
And looked a bit.
And chatted a bit.
And walked a bit more.
And had Christmas flavoured biscuits.
We repeated this for a while finding out bits of people's stories as we passed each other by.
We met a 3 year old who had too much bounce at the top of a hill. He had seen a frog. And a buffalo.
We speculated about sheep being cows in disguise, plotting to take over the world and named as may songs as we could which had French lyrics in them.
We happened upon the best kind of triathlon completely by accident.
We saw a chap steaming up Inglborough in his cycle kit.
This confused me.
Where was his bike?
He had trainers on.
Then a few minutes later he bolted back past us, this time in a downward direction n sped off into the distance.
Hmmm.
Then another runner came.
And another.
Then one with a dog.
None had numbers on.
Most peculiar.
One of the lady runners decided she'd had enough, was too hot n turned round n headed back to the base of the hill.
We carried on with our bimble n Signe announced that since we were on our holidays (thus calories were free) we should, by law, have ice cream.
Hey - we don't make the rules....
Who am I to object?
So we went in search.
Instead of finding an ice cream man, we found a bunch of people laid on the grass by the outside pool.
Bikes abandoned, people picnicking n generally a good time being had by all.
A runner approached, the people cheered and shouted said runners name with a whoop n a hooray. The runner stopped.
That was it.
No time. No rank. No medal.
How bloody glorious on a Saturday afternoon.
They had done an honesty based triathlon round n up Inglborough.
I liked this very much.
Anyhoo... We pottered down to the river n eventually back to the campsite to turn ourselves into human beings n on to the pub (more free calories)
Life couldn't get much better.
Actually it could.... And did.
After a night of rain pattering on the tent (but not leaking) Sunday brought exploring of my favourite kind.
The kind when we end up exploring and bobbing in lump of water that is ours alone for the afternoon and is filled with magic... The kind of water n magic that re-balances the soul n makes everything right with the world.
Everything looks different when you're surrounded by water.
The sky is bluer, the trees greener, the bird song sweeter n the soul is shinier.
We picnicked in the sunshine before getting back in the water n making our skin fizzy one last time.
I had the perfect weekend, in perfect company.... Made even more perfect by other people contributing in perfect ways.
It's been aces.
Ta x
