Coniston

This easter, (or should it be last easter?) I decided upon gracing the glamorous coniston water with my presence for a camping trip. I thought 'wouldn't it be nice to get away from it all for a day?' The first problem became apparent as the second week of holiday turned around: no tent. So I, rather stupidly, decided to cycle there for a day of rest, relaxation, swimming and orienteering.

I got all my stuff ready to go, bag packed, bike checked, before I realised the tyre mending kit was too decript to be worth taking, so I had to wait for an hour whilst dad got me a new one from town.

When I finally set off, the hill was steeper than I remembered. In fact, all the hills were, not helped by the heavy bag on my back, and I alternated between boiling hot and frezing as I went up and down the hills. When I got there, I went to sleep on a rock, much to the amusement of rowers, before heading (at a gentle pace) towards Coniston villiage. Where I bought lunch and tea, at extortionate prices, and tried to find an ATM or a shop that gave cashback. Neither of these existed.

I cycled onwards, stopping frequently for 'lets lie on the beach and swim' sessions, before arriving at the O place. 1 1/2 hours early. So I waited. And slept. Before running (well it was more of a saunter through the woods) for an hour. I had a deadline of sunset: 8.06pm, and it being 6.45 when I'd finished orienteering, I had a mad dash back home. I was exhausted, my legs felt as though someone was sitting on them, and my back ached, the bag upon it getting heavier and heavier. By the time I reached greenodd I was ready to collapse, but there was more hills to come, so I grimly held on. Up the hill. Down the hill, up the hill and up some more. I felt sick and exhausted, but I was closer to home with ever breath. That one thought kept me from giving up there and then. Home.

I finally got in, couldnt breathe properly and collapsed onto the sofa, before crawling to bed, where I slept the next 13 hours.

Thats something I wont do again in a hurry.

Cycling

Over the past few days (OK, just 3) I have becaome slightly enamoured of cycling. This is my bid to not be lazy now that it's the easter holiday, and also because I like to be fairly self reliant, I thought I could combine two things. Kill two birds with one stone. Not that I would want to kill any birds except to eat, or that I know how to use a slingshot, or even if I did want to eat a bird, that I'd want to eat two of them.

But, the point is, I have an extremely sore backside after 3 days of tormenting it by cycling over the moors. The roads up there arent in the best of conditions, but I think it's the dirt track, the excruciatingly rough dirt track, that was the worst bit. And having not really done any cycling since last summer...

Yesterday I cycled about 16 miles. Well, I dont know the distance, but it seemed about 100 times longer than it is. The problem being that it was basically all uphill. Which was great on the way back, but made my legs sore ache on the way there, the wind not helping matters by blowing straight into my face.

So for the rest of this week, my aim is to do a bit of cycling every day, and so to make it seem pointful, I have to have a task for every day. For example, today I went to post a membership renewal which was dreadfully overdue (3 or 4 months), and I am thinking about writing a letter to send to Germany tomorrow for my friend. Thinking, mind. I am one of these terrible people who cannot for the life of me stay in touch with anyone, even if I have good intentions. I generally avoid all forms of technological contact - phones, mobile phones, email and messenger(the most likely ones to find me at being email because its less involved with people).

Anway, tea calls, so I shall stop babbling on randomly at this page, pouring out my heart and soul to the web (not).

Tomorrow I have a depressing amount of Chemistry. Its twice the amount anyway, in lessons, but then on top I have to do an hour of coursework and a 40 minute test. 3h40. I dont think I've ever done that much Chemistry in one day.

But on the other hand, tomorrow is a good day. It is one step further than today, and twice as far as yesterday. e.g. I have maths! And we're doing 'Mag-Pi's' as I call them.

Mag-Pi is just basically the multiplication series sign that is denoted by a large (or rather capital) Pi. Its Magnificent and its magnifyed. Hence Mag-Pi. There are also Magpies in our school gardens, but these are more of the traditional, black, white and greedy beasties that reguarly chase the squirrels up the pear trees.

Today in Band (I play the trumpet), Antonia and I resolved to play our parts really loud. We have a little bit of an issue with the 'first' trumpeter. She thinks shes so good she should play first all the time - I'm ony quoting what she said - and that everyone compliments her ("Me, not the flutes or the clarinets, they said I was good and not them"). Anyway, we have rather gotten sick of this attitude. It would maybe be bearable if she actually back up these claims, but she plays as quite as a mouse and noone can hear her. So since the beginning of the year me and Antonia have been doubling on the first part with her, to make it audible, but we've finally had enough. Guess what our music teacher said today? "I can't hear the first trumpet". Our point precisely. She is a good player, I'll give her that, but she's not cut out for big band or orchestra playing when you have to make a noise above ppp. I'm not brilliant at always hitting the notes, but I at least welly them good and hard, and antonia can play loud and accurately. Us two always alternate parts so that we know all the music and are versatile musicians. But She (Her Majesty, as we call her now) wont play 2nd or 3rd because she doesnt know them. If she was truely as good as she makes out, she would be able to sight read both parts with no mistakes.

Anyway, enough of that issue! It's been bugging me for weeks and I can't say much because one of my best friends is friends with her.

Today also, there were two Canada geese on the Duddon Estuary. They were beautiful! Gliding along the water like they had no cares in the world!

So why a Great Northern Diver?

Well originally it wasn't going to be . Originally it was a Wren, because they're very cute, fluffy and also my favorite garden bird.

But then I thought about the name. No humour in it. Find out (if you dont know already) the other name for a great northern diver. It's very appropriate.

Loons laugh under water to one another (if you've never heard it, find yourself a lake and wait for a Loon, then listen. Or rather, a pair of Loons. It'd be a rather lonely loon that laughed to itself. Anyway, I diverge), and they seem generally cheerful but slightly odd. You can imagine having a conversation with a loon going something like this

'Oh hello there Mrs Loon'

'Heehehehehe Hello to you too hehe. How are you?'

'Absolutely brilliant old bean'

'Hehehahaehe I'm not an old bean. I'm a young bean, in fact, I'm not quite a bean at all hehehe I'm a loon. Hehehahahehe'

'I can see that!'

'Well (hehe) why did you call me an old (heha) bean? hehehe'

'It's a figure of speech and all that... Anyway, have you seen Hilde lately?'

'You mean that loveehehely swan'

'I do indeed'

'No. Hehehaheheha'


And so on.