I grew up in a tiny village in The Lake District. For those who don’t know, The Lake District is a beautiful place where people pay ridiculous prices to go and stay in a cabin, or where the rich people go to retire. Either way, people don’t stay long.
Sometimes when I go home, I laugh at how much the place is like a fantasy novel, and I love it. It’s like it’s stuck in time, always a little bit behind the rest of the world. So, without further ado, here is the list I’ve made over the last few weeks:
Reasons why The Lake District is some sort of Fantasy Land
- Carlisle is literally nick-named ‘City of the Lakes.’ Even though there are no lakes in the city? Misleading but magical.
- In one of the villages I lived in, there is a beck leading to a river. Kids splash and play in the beck all summer, and the road even goes into the river. How many children can say their parents drove through a river on the way to school?
- Down the road from where I live, there is an Ice Cream Farm. That’s right folks, we get ice cream straight from the cows udder. There’s a place where you can pet the calves and there’s even fake cows for you to sit on while you enjoy your ice cream. I always thank the cows for the deliciousness they’ve provided. (The real ones, not the fake ones. You numpties.)
- There is a man in the town centre who goes by the name ‘Tatty Tim.’ I’m not even going to explain that one.
- There is also a man so famous that our town wanted to name the Wetherspoon’s after him. I’m not entirely sure who he is or why he’s so legendary, but where you at Rowland?
- Buses? Pfft, who needs them? There is one bus trip a week from my village, and if you get on it, you better know when it’s due to come back. Otherwise you’ll be camping there for the week. You may also have to pick a fight with the elderly if you want a seat, and NEVER sit in ‘Margaret’s’ seat, even if she’s not there. The others will batter you.
- The biggest event of the year by far is Appleby Horse fair, where the population of 3,000 increases to 30,000 as travellers from across come together to trade horses. They literally come to celebrate horses, wash horses in the river, and leave again. I get it’s traditional, but outside of Cumbria it does seem a little strange.
- There is a marmalade festival. I kid you not. There is an entire festival, where people stick pictures of oranges everywhere and sell marmalade? What even?
So that’s my list so far, no doubt it’ll keep getting bigger the more I travel home. But for now, Netflix is calling my name.