Raindrops on Roses and whiskers on kittens…

These are a few of my favourite things, well, they’re not. Actually I do like raindrops and whiskers on kittens/cats are soo adorable, but that’s beside the point. I’m here to tell you about my favourite place.

Now, I’m sure like anyone I have a number of favourite places. But in lines with the Twitter Blogathon* rules I’m only really allowed to tell you about one.

Though in order to get more out of my choice, my favourite place is quite a big one (I would say England, but that might be taking the biscuit and would only partially be true).

I love The Lake District.

I’m sure many people would agree with me about just how visually stunning the good old Lakes is, but my love for the location is perhaps a little bigger/different to the average person.

For the last fifty (yes, that’s five-zero) years my family have had a caravan on the shore of Lake Windermere (the largest lake in the UK if I’m not mistaken). When I say shore, I actually mean a couple of rows of caravans back from the shore, though first on the next row up. If I’m still not explaining myself very well, we were in prime position with the best view of the lake.

(The view one evening in about 2001 as the sun set over the hills.)

They didn’t always have a caravan there, it used to be ‘near the laundrette’ but for as long as I can remember and in actual fact, all my life, we had plot L28.

Every morning you could wake up, open the curtains and stare out across that glorious expanse of blue. Boy was it blue. In Summer we could stand outside in the little garden/parking spot and watch the world go by.

At night the sun always set over the hills on the other side of the lake leaving us with nothing but a stabbing sky and a darkened lake.

Lucky is probably the word I should use because it was one of the most peaceful places on this planet. You could take a walk down to the jetty where ducks and swans would always be awaiting their millionth offering of bread. In Spring we’d not only get the chance to watch ducklings kicking their little legs, but on the shore of Lake Windermere I fell in love with Ugly Ducklings. Whoever thought Goslings were ugly…I shake my head.

In addition to the beautiful surroundings on the caravan site, we were also very lucky to be a very short walk from Bowness-on-Windermere. For anyone that isn’t familiar with Bowness, or the Lakes full stop, it is as good as saying it’s THE place to be. A very busy place, particularly in summer, but altogether a lovely town. Various little shops stretched out along the shore of the lake and back up towards the town of Windermere.

Windermere, Bowness and the lake aside, further afield you have many, many towns and villages worth exploring and the odd scary road, such as the Hardknock Pass.

From Beatrice Potter to Wordsworth, from the best gingerbread to the best sticky toffee pudding. I don’t think there’s ever enough time to explore it all…unless you’ve been once or twice a year for twenty-four years that is.

Sadly, after a year of my uncles taking over the caravan we had to let it go. Not only was the caravan itself in need of replacing but the site didn’t care for how long the Bond family have graced them with their presence. Caravans are being replaced with cabins, speed boats are being replaced with yachts (they introduced a speed limit on the lake a few years back) and even Bowness recently acquired a Costa Coffee and Tesco Express, if it wasn’t hard enough keeping a tourist-based business going, they had to make it even harder.

I shall leave you with this lasting piece of information; a poem I wrote in sixth form college about This Place and Me.

Many years of the same old place,
The same old face.
Nothing more is needed, just the everlasting
Feeling of happiness, satisfying.
Looking in a different way,
Seeing a new world out of the old.
So powerful, the feeling deep inside,
I can’t hide,
Smiles everytime I see,
The place I spent years,
The key,
To my purpose in life.
The strength of the place,
The look on my face.
My life,
Without it, nothing.
The definition of me,
Just see,
The simple reality,
Too hard to explain,
The sense of belonging, meaning.
It’s meant to be.
This place and me.

– Fiona Bond (2003/2004)

(How much do I sound like a marketing brochure right now?)

* Twitter Blogathon is the name gave to our daily blog


Today’s Twitter Blogathon’s other blogs:

lilmisskaty – Welcome to my Smiley Place

Katy – coming soon!


4 thoughts on “Raindrops on Roses and whiskers on kittens…

  1. Darling, if listening to Steve and Soph chat about the Lakes hadn’t made me want to go before then this blog certainly has. What a view!

    I’m so sad your family doesn’t have that plot anymore, what a wonderful place and wonderful story.

    Thanks for sharing 🙂

    Ps you’re so good at blog titles!! 2 brilliant ones in a row!!

    1. Haha, thank you! I don’t know where my titles came from, just my random brain. 😛 I came up with this one stood on a train platform singing Julie Andrews, as you do. Wet feet must have made my brain work harder or something.

      Anyway, yes, yes and yes. GO, go and don’t forget to go! I always say that the Lake District and Cornwall are the greatest places on the earth and deserve a visit. Plus, you must try the gingerbread and sticky toffee pudding…best. ever. literally.

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