We needed a few items of outdoor kit, so we headed for Keswick.
Top of the priority list was boot proofing. Our final tin of Nikwak "proper" boot wax had expired and Nikwax no longer make the stuff, having moved over to some sort of spray gunk that softens leather, which isn't what my Scarpa SLs need. Advice was sought in various gear shops, each directing us to another. Eventually Chris relented and bought a bottle of the Nikwax spray gunk, that's fine, she can do what she wants to her SLs. I'll be changing brands to get my SLs a proper non-softening wax to be applied in the tried & trusted therapeutic "rub it in with a finger while sitting in front of a roaring log-fire" manner. Old-school, that's me.
I can't decide if I've lost my gear-shopping mojo or if I've simply got enough kit, but even after fondling some good stuff in the Alpkit emporium I still didn't splash the cash. I can't remember for sure which shop didn't allow us upstairs, but I did get a pic of the prohibition sign:
I'd have used "You cannot pass" as that's the wording in the book, but that might have offended "the wider public"
Soon enough it was time for elevenses. Or was it second breakfast? Or maybe luncheon?
Chris hadn't been in my favourite Keswick pub before, so it was time to put that right.
Cue the Bank Tavern pic:
We were a tad early to order food, so we had to kill time using the medium of Guinness. To be fair, after going without a pub beer for over a year, it wasn't much of an ordeal.
Game casserole wasn't on the menu, but the specials-board pie was a superb alternative:
Guinnesses, with two superb meals and a glamorous assistant for scale
Back at the cottage we got the fire going and settled down for a relaxing afternoon. A mix of blue skies and minor showers enhanced the views from the lounge window:
After dark we spent some time in the garden meteor-spotting, and then, after making a plan for Wednesday, we retired for the night.
