Buttermere Birthday

Without wishing to sound trite, over a wonderful weekend of celebration in one of the worlds most beautiful cottages, next to one of the worlds most beautiful lakes for one of my mates 60th birthday, the oldest man in the world as I like to think of the wonderful Dr S; one of the most beautiful? I’ll let you decide, He lives in North Wales and is open to offers from women with Dogs. So this weekend, my first 60th party as an enthusiastic participant rather than a tedious onlooker, just waiting for the speeches to finish, this weekend we spent the time helping each other cook and cope with the squally rain, drying boots in the boot room and quaffing frothy pints from filthy tankards.

One of the interesting facts about the weekend, booze wise, is that Mrs T and I somehow have a bottle of red which is twice the size of one bottle of red, and its tasty. Thinking we’ll drink it there, was ambitious and as a result it’s here next to my laptop with the top off. Were it not for the lack of balloons then I think everyone in Buttermere would have know it was our birthday, the workers of Buttermere kindly toppled a tree blocking the road for us, and also grumbled at me for parking on our drive to unload our car whilst he tried to usher the sheep past. I got the feeling that unless you’re a tourist here, living here is probably full of hatred towards the visitors. Off the record one of our party was attacked with a point-hed stick.

Some photos of proof.

And yes, we had a bloody good time, without kids, and whilst not being swingers, in case some of the more racey followers get the wrong idea.

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