This drive was relatively easy. Three hours up through the Yorkshire Moors then into Cumbria to a tiny Hamlet called Hutton Roof. The house we were staying in was quite old with an odour of ancient, fusty carpets. It says 1874 above the door and I think that’s the last time it’s been decorated. The tin bath was rusty and the mangle broken but apart from that all was fine… oh and the sheep wondering in and out the living room, bleating occasionally.
The view however, more than made up for it.
The reception was joyful as it was beautiful. The drink flowed, the vegan grub devoured (Mind you the next day I had a cheeky bacon sandwich!) and the guests danced away with the céilidh in full flow.
And that’s it. Eight weeks of impersonating headless chickens is over. It’s been crazy. Insane at times and wonderful mixed together. Now it’s time to sleep for a week!