Lakeland Larks

I am posting early today, because we are about to set off up the M6 for a weekend away. On Saturday morning, H and I will palm the kids off on my Dad, and then try not to run as we head off to the glorious Lake District, where our friend’s 50th birthday party is going to be held.
The plan is that two very good female friends and I are going to do a fairly substantial hill walk in the morning and early afternoon, leaving the blokes to ….well, I’m not exactly sure what they are going to do, really. Watch videos or sport or something. Maybe swap knitting patterns, who knows?
I have already done an emergency dash to the shops this morning, to replace the walking boots that I threw out over six months ago, when I discovered that they had gone mouldy. I had actually forgotten that I had thrown them out, but apparently H hasn’t. Well, at least he claims to remember my bitter outburst about the symbolism of it all.
Thankfully, walking boots are designed for wide-footed hearty types, rather than pointy-toed pixies, so at least this speed-shopping trip wasn’t as arduous as procuring the turquoise strappy wedges last Saturday. I am now the proud owner of a pair of ultra-lightweight, waterproof state-of-the-art boots. Doubtless they will enable me to leap across mountain crevasses, scramble over scree, and stride purposefully up near-vertical inclines. Well, they looked comfortable enough to stroll through quaint little gift shops looking for Kendal Mint Cake, and that’s what really matters.
After the walk, the three of us intend to return rosy-cheeked and virtuous, ready for a hot bath and the transformation from mountain goats to valley girls.
Now, although I am really excited by the prospect of the walk, the pessimist within fears that after all that fresh air and a scented bath, I may just want to curl up and go to sleep. Walking any distance in new boots means that my feet will be like two bags of chips, and I will have to unplait my toes in order to force them into my strappy wedges.
There will be only one thing for it: pre-dinner drinks to lift my spirits and numb the pain.
I was thinking about pre-dinner drinks last night as I opened up my Friday Night Cheap Fizz (one night early). A glass of champagne in a posh restaurant is probably going to cost about £6. For the same money, I could have a bottle of Cuvée Royale Crémant de Limoux (Ocado £5.59 down from £6.99 until 31/7). I wanted to try the Blanquette de Limoux as suggested by MYA, who calls it ‘a fête in a bottle’ but this was as near as I could get. It has a rich biscuit and apple taste, and is quite dry, making it seem a lot more expensive than it actually is.
I have just checked on the weather forecast for The Lakes, and with comforting familiarity, it promises to be lousy. Therefore, I have packed my waterproofs - and I’m not afraid to use them.