… but it was a jolly near-run thing.
The Matriarch and I set out at 9.00 in the morning for Cleator Moor in the teeth of a biblical deluge to collect some cakes from our wonderful and faithful cake-baker Mary. At 10.00am, Mary was ‘phoning the Centre to ask where we were …
Wading through flood water down at the Co-op, as a matter of fact … and wondering if we were going to make it back to Ravenglass. The prospect of getting marooned and having to live on fairy cakes and coconut slices until we were rescued wasn’t an attractive one, let me tell you.
By the time we eventually got to to the Centre, the main entrance and driveway looked like this:
and an entire new river system was busily engaged in carving its way through our back garden …
Meanwhile, indoors the volunteers were eating all the food, talking to each other (on account of there being no-one else to talk to) …
and exchanging fashion notes on wet-weather gear …
However, in the afternoon, the customary Muncaster Miracle happened. Briefly (very briefly), the sun appeared and West Cumbrians emerged blinking into the light. Then, bless their loyal hearts, they headed for the Centre, spent vast amounts of money, drank vast amounts of tea, waited for the raffle to be drawn, then left again – with the renewing storm clouds snapping at their heels.
And somewhere along the line, we managed to make over £600.00 …
The highlight of the day, by popular vote, was the moment when one of our volunteers – who is Dutch – asked me what I would win if I was actually voted ‘Cumbrian Woman of the Year’.
“A big rosette?” she hazarded solemnly, “Like a cow?”
For some obscure reason, everyone found this absolutely hilarious … and then, when someone else said, “Oh yes! Prize Cow of the Year!” … well … they just laughed until they cried, didn’t they?
