History, indeed, I fear: already it seems like weeks ago. 170 miles of empty, bumpy road, folowed by 2 hours of smooth sea, then 170 miles of smooth, but crowded road has distanced Lettermore much more than it ought. Add 1½ days of intense work and the distance is magnified.
But with distance comes perspective. One day of rain and three of cloud and cold is put into perspective by the warm, sunny day on Sunday, when we were packing up to go, when there was no breeze and the midges made up for the lost week by attacking us unmercifully. Thank goodness that didn't happen at all during the rest of the party!
We were able to wander between the three cottages without problem (apart from drizzle on the Thursday) and often to sit outside and talk.
The book-swap took place on Saturday afternoon, sitting in a circle outside, with glasses of Pendle Witch (courtesy of Moorhouses Brewery, Blackburn) to loosen our tongues - as if
that were necessary! As expected, a collection of excellent reading matter appeared and went to good homes. It was a little spooky, having musick there by proxy and taking part in the swap, and underlined how much we missed his real presence.
(Hope you enjoy the read, K!)It was interesting to see the ebb and flow of people, and who was in which group at any given moment. The whole affair was enlivened by the Micro-Remingtons, a lovely pair of children who fitted in to the proceedings without disrupting them. We're just waiting until JUnior TEd is ready to join the board - his vocabulary is already massive - goodness knows what it will be like when he's in his teens.
The trip to the Aran Islands was excellent, you know what I mean? - a gloriously hot day, calm sea, plenty of interesting things to look at - what more can you want. On top of that, the chance to spend multi-dollars on genuine Aran sweaters, knitted in a factory in Northern Ireland.
Seriously, the sweaters are beautiful pieces of work, and very warm in the winter winds. Originally, each family on the islands had a different pattern, which was exclusive to them. Each member of the family had their own variation of that pattern. This was so bodies of drowned fishermen could be recognised when found after a week or two in the sea. The same thing occurs in Fair Isle, Guernsey, and Yorkshire fishermen's sweaters - and no doubt elsewhere as well.
The evenings were the main time for talk: starting as we waited for the communal meal to arrive - and many thanks to those who slaved over the turf-fire to roast the pasta and the sausages and black pudding, to say nothing of the roast chicken! - and continuing until the early hours. games of scrabble, cribbage, "Apple to Apple" (highly recommended!) and other pastimes filled what few gaps there were in the proceedings.
In addition to all this, there were forays to the local Golf Club. This was about a mile down a little lane, very scenic as we went down in the daylight and somewhat treacherous as we came back in the dark. I would have you understand that we didn't go down there to play golf except at the nineteenth hole. They served a very pleasant pint of Guinness there, although the noise level was very high at times - all the more remarkable because the noise was all in Gaellic.
Now, we are all looking forward to next year's event: where's it to be, ladies and gentlemen?
Well - that's my take on the Emerald WaP, fwiw. Next please!
