It was his idea; he fancied rowing a boat for his Father's Day outing, so that's what we did and rather lovely it was.
We headed to Rudyard Lake a beautiful reservoir, just out of town, that's been a pleasure ground for local people since Victorian times. Back then a Sunday afternoon at the Lake was a welcome refuge from the smoke and smog of the city, from it's pot banks and pits. It must have felt like a piece of heaven. Kipling's parents honeymooned here apparently, hence his name.
My parents remember Sunday school outings to Rudyard and the sides of the lake being packed with thousands of people enjoying themselves.
The sky was low and threatening this afternoon so it was quiet, not busy at all, meaning our hopeless rowing efforts went pretty unnoticed! It was beautifully still, no breeze at all and the lake surface was still as a millpond.
I could have sat back and drifted up and down Rudyard's watery reaches all afternoon, absorbed in the relections, imagining cosying up inside the cabin of a favourite handsome craft, cooking in the tiny galley and sunning myself on the deck.
Our time was soon up though but we'll be back again, with the sunshine hopefully x