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Saturday 17th February 2007
Glenridding
      
Today M**** and I went to Glenridding, staying at the, er . . . 'Inn on the Lake' hotel. I would put a link in somewhere, but it's really not necessary. We dropped off A****** at Helen/Stu's place at around one o'clock and then I instructed M**** on what route to take. The exact destination was a surprise, you see. So after what seemed like a scary journey along the A592, we did all the checking-in stuff and then had a wander around outside.
  
As you may have spotted in the past, I have a bit of a thing for large, still expanses of water so, of course, I had to take loads of pictures of Ullswater itself. Erm . . . and stuff, more stuff.
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So yeah . . . we must have got to the hotel at about 3pm-ish. We've recently been talking about getting some kind of decent picture of somewhere in the Lakes to hang on our, erm, living room wall. Yes, we read the Guardian and shop at Sainsbury's. I feel like I'm turning into some kind of stereotype. Of course, my pictures are never good enough, says M****. Too grainy, too blurry, the wrong light, bad lens flare . . . maybe M**** has a point: the camera ain't brilliant, after all.
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. . . but then I never bought it thinking about the quality of the images; I bought my Canon Ixus II because of its size (TINY!), the freaky rechargeable battery (i.e. not AA), the memory card thing . . . maybe something else. I dunno. What was I on about? So yeah . . . we're taking these pictures but it's probably all in vain; we'll probably just buy something done professionally in the end. I don't know. I don't see what wrong with these images, the odd one or two. I mean, it's not like anyone's going to be peering really close at the print, going, "Blimey! What kind of resolution is your camera? This picture's all . . . urrrgghh . . . pixellated or something. It's making me feel angry. VERY ANGRY. WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. STUPID PEOPLE!!! AAAARRRRRGGHHHH!"
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So yeah . . . that was nice. We then went to the adjoining pub, something like the 'Ramblers Bar' or similar. This had the advantage that we didn't need to hand over any money - just show 'em some kind of receipt thingy the receptionist had given me and sign for the beer. Dinner that night was fantastic, although the atmosphere was a bit on the quiet side. The volume of the music was such that M**** felt self-conscious about speaking too loud and everyone else hearing her conversation or something. This wasn't a problem for me. I just carried on talking as normal, oblivious to the world around me. Is that wrong of me?
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