Wherever I lay my hat.

"Darling, where's my hat?" is the most often heard phrase in Delores for two main reasons, firstly because it's bloomin' cold outside and secondly because, despite Delores only being 6m long and just over 2m wide, it's alarmingly easy to lose stuff.  Somewhere in the depths of her many cupboards lie assorted socks and at least one bra.  They must be here somewhere as they're not really the sorts of things you'd lose anywhere else, are they?

Campsite taken from Arnside Knott

One thing we can't afford to lose is any of the paperwork from the assorted solicitors and mortgage companies.  We've trained most of them to email us stuff but they still have this obsession with sending us a hard copy, the upshot being that as a result of this whole house moving process one small corner of the depleted rainforest will be forever on my conscience.  On a brighter note we did manage to complete phase one this week by completing on the 'buy-to-let' mortgage on our home in Fleet and bagging a tenant on the same day.  You may well think that at least that's one less thing to worry about but you'd be wrong, now we have to worry about getting landlord's gas & electricity certificates, clearing the house, cleaning it to within an inch of it's life etc. etc. etc..  Must be rather like being a nervous parent when your child gets married, you know someone else is meant to be looking after them now but your just not sure they'll do it quite as well as you would.

Work and house stuff has kept us pretty busy this week and in addition to that we're now learning what it's like to share our limited living space with germs.  Yes, having managed to dodge every cold and flu virus so far this winter, I've now been hit with a doozie.  I have a throat like sandpaper and a somewhat less than attractive hacking cough.  Of course I can't just take myself off to bed as, when the bed is out, it takes up around 2/3 of the space inside, so instead I have to make do with curling up on the sofa, but it's just not the same as cool clean sheets when you're feeling grotty.  The lack of spare room is also a distinct disadvantage for Steve as he has nowhere else to crawl off and sleep when my snoring reaches it's zenith.  (And you thought a hacking cough was unattractive!)

Hats are essential.

In an attempt to breathe some life into my bones we headed for Windermere today.  We took a pleasant stroll around Bowness and enjoyed hot pork rolls down by the lake shore for lunch.  We were lucky to hang onto our rolls as we were being constantly harassed by a couple of stroppy swans.  What I'm most curious about is where in their evolutionary history did swans develop a taste for roast pork?  I have little doubt that in a swan versus small pig fight that the swan may well win, but I must have missed the Attenborough show where he uncovered their ability to roast said pig then rustle up a pot of apple sauce and a fine bit of stuffing.

And so here we now sit, tucked up for the evening in Delores whilst Monty gets up to heaven knows what mischief on his nightly patrol of the neighbourhood.  I'm busy writing this blog to keep all our friends and family updated with our escapades and Steve is trying to release sheep from a 'tractor' beam and muttering about daddy's sheep being too big to get through the ice ray. Don't worry, he's not been at the local mushrooms, he's stuck on Chapter 2, Level 1 of Farm Break and would welcome any assistance you may be able to offer.

Our solicitor reckons we could complete on the house up here by this coming Friday - but we've all heard that one before so I'm trying not to hold my breath too hard.  If by some miracle we do then we can at last look forward to being reunited with our assorted missing undergarments.  About time too - it's beginning to get parky again.