Coming for to Carry Me Home
Those of you who have found a good lifebelt and are content to float through the seas of life, allowing the wind and waves to waft you in whichever direction they choose, content in the knowledge that wherever you end up will be pretty much the same kind of frying pan, have my admiration. I can’t do that. I have to try to figure out which way the wind is blowing and if the tide is ebbing or flowing. I have an urgent and irrepressible need to be able to steer, control, plan ahead and all that other stuff – which I actually do know is totally pointless. I don’t want to get involved in the dichotomy of how God or the Universe or Fate or Somebody You Know, manages to do something good for me by doing something bad for you, so mostly I go with the greatest common denominator and accept that some you win and some you loose.
The problem is that while I can accept that intellectually, it doesn’t alter the fact that I find not being in control very frustrating. While I am content to leave the daily routine of life to a beneficent Kismet or Fate, I’d just like to be sure they understand the problem properly.
We had parked the car at Glenridding and taken the boat up to Pooley Bridge – and why not? At Pooley Bridge we wandered around the village, peering in the shops with the amazement of travellers from a strange land then walked back to the boat pier for the return journey.
As you can see Somebody Up There loves us – or maybe The Universe and The Ullswater Steamers were working to the same timetable that day. That’s our boat, there.