… otherwise known as Christmas Eve.
Today was a bit of a repeat of yesterday; repeat, that is, except the wind had dropped and conditions were now calm but it was raining more frequently. Being calm, when it came the rain was falling more or less vertically.
First order of business, after two coffees, that is, was to hit Booths for our Christmas supplies. No sooner had we left Guillaume and begun walking through the campsite to the exit than it began to rain. This was very wetting rain which soon dripped off my waterproof jacket and saturated the front of my trousers. I love it … NOT. I HATE getting wet. I really should have brought some waterproof trousers with me. No matter, I’d dry.
I did dry, too, once in Booths. We chose a boned and stuffed pheasant to sling on the charcoal barbie. Yes, I’ve brought the charcoal travelling Weber with us. Mercifully, the forecast for Christmas Day is considerably drier, even with some spells of sunshine. Let’s hope the forecast is somewhere close to accurate. [Yes, I know, what chance of that?] Should I be unable to barbecue, I’ll cut teh stuffed bird up and cook it inside.
Considering that this was 10:30 Christmas Eve, Booths was remarkably sane and civilized. Back at home our Waitrose would be absolutely heaving with people filling trollies with much more than they could possibly eat without exploding. I don’t get it; why do we do it? It’s just another day and you can only eat so much. By all means buy something more special but excess quantity just gets wasted. Booths was not heaving and everyone was proceeding in an orderly fashion. How very refreshing.
Breakfast appears to be scrambled eggs with smoked salmon bits stirred in. I really must make a mental note to try it with salmon caviar stirred in. There was a jointed wild rabbit saying “buy me” so tonight, for Christmas Eve dinner, we’re going for paella. Yeah! Any excuse for a paella.
We’ve discovered a cheese called Black Dub Blue which goes down well with a glass or three of sweet Madeira. So, I bought another chunk of that and another bottle of Madeira. There’s Havana Club to throw in the coffee and whisky macs to make sure we don’t sober up too much.
Happily we did not get wet again walking back to stash our booty. We did, though, spot an interesting lighting effect on one of the mountains towering above Derwentwater. Naturally, once we had readied ourselves, the murk returned and the mountain became socked in. Francine waited patiently and eventually conditions improved such that the mountain looked impressive once again. Here’s what she managed to capture.
I went to join in and had missed the dramatic stuff. I was, however, captivated by the wake being left by a swan as it glid past. I think the shot has turned out quite well, if given a letter-box crop.
Continuing our wander, back at Derwentwater proper, Francine was again playing with her new Canon R-series lens, an F2.8 70-200 RF. This trip is really her first time using it in anger and I must say the results are little short of stunning. It seems to be a truly amazing lens for sharpness and clarity. The island just off the shore in Derwentwater looked wonderfully clear. It must be that F2.8 lenses really are worth the extra money.