OK so we’ve climbed into the car and driven 350 miles, to stay there for 2 days then drive 350 miles back again. Are we barmy? Have we totally taken leave of our senses? Should we have done this?

Probably yes. Probably yes. Probably no.

BUT sometimes, even things which seem at first sight to be as bonkers as bonkers things are, in fact, if not completely stunningly sensible, then they do have some sense about them – enough to justify our actions.

You see, we’ve not had a holiday really since we went to the USA in March 2005. It’s been a frenzy of shaping the grand plan then making it happen. Since we managed to land ourselves in Cornwall, to be honest we’ve been struggling with sorting out our affairs – finding our dream home (which by the way is still missing, so if you see it let us know), moving, letting go of our old home, trying to make a new life, trying to make new friends, trying to change our new home from rat’s nest to home.

All of this has taken its toll and we are tired, fed-up and sick to the back teeth of dust and rubble.

So, when I got a pmail from Bill Miller asking us if we’d like a weekend in the lakes then we jumped at the chance – a weekend somewhere a long way away from muck and renovations but close enough emotionally to our home environment to make us feel comfortable with the trip. A weekend when someone would look after us for a change – Bill, bless him, sorted it all out. We had to do nothing but show up with cameras and cash. A weekend when we’d get to meet some nice people with whom we’ve already got at least some things in common (pbase)? Yes, please.

Here we are then. It’s late at night and we’ve had a gruelling day driving from Cornwall to the Lake District. The dogs are beginning to think we’ve duped them by chucking them in the car for the whole day then not filling a promise of fun at the other end for them. They’ve had little or no chance to let off steam and tonight have been asked to sit quietly in our room for three hours because the pub that describes itself as dog-friendly won’t let them in the bar for three hours in the evening because of a warped sense of hygiene while serving food. I always thought that’s what pubs were all about – enjoying a meal and some beer, while the dogs snooze below the table. Ah well, there’s nowt so queer as folks.

Even so, we’ve had a nice evening with Bill, David and Pat Anderson. Chat about all sorts of stuff, from cameras and kit (surprise surprise) to students, marriage and Iceland via food and beer.

I’m tired and have not had a chance for a great, good or even adequate shot today so here is some more Linda-cack for your delectation. If you think this is a really cack self-portrait then imagine how bad it was before neat image.

Last year I was obsessing about keeping warm.