Hadrian's Wall - Day 2 - Easton to Carlisle

You would have thought that walking ten miles would be the tough part of the day, but no, the difficult bit was when we reached Carlisle and lost one another. For two hours. 

At breakfast in the B&B, a woman who had nearly finished her walk highly recommended Hadrian's Haul as a way to get our bags from A to B. Nigel was keen to keep on heaving his massive rucksack but my weak back meant that even a modest daysack was weighing heavy. 

Finally Nigel conceded, so when we reached Carlisle, I scampered off to buy such luxuries as shampoo, conditioner and body lotion, which we had been unable to carry previously.  I told Nigel which shops I was headed for and he went to get a new phone cable. 

As I darted between M&S and Boots, I thought to share my location with him via WhatsApp.  And that's when my phone ran out of juice.

To complicate matters, Nigel didn't figure it out.  He appears to have thought that I was dazzled by the bright lights of Carlisle and had gone on some wild girlie spending spree.

Anyway, we kept missing each other. Nigel reckons that CCTV footage of the town centre would show a farcical series of comings and goings as our paths criss-crossed one another. 

Only when I borrowed a stranger's phone and rang him did the drama turn back into a comedy. 

I was so exhausted that I did not have enough strength to use my new toiletries. 

But I did manage to gloat over them. 

Shopping

The shops are open.

I haven’t been yet.

I need some summer clothes and I really like to examine the fabric and fit of an item before I buy it.

However, as with every other phase of the release of Lockdown, I am slow to take up my new privileges. 

Part of this is for the very practical reason that Nigel is an asthma sufferer so I’m keen to avoid Covid on his behalf.

However, I seem generally a little reluctant. 

I think it is because, while I remain at home, I can half believe that the town centre is operating just as normal, with people drifting along the market stalls, making casual purchases and finally settling to a coffee at a cafe table. 

Once I get there, I shall be confronted with the reality of queues, face masks, hand sanitiser, social distancing and worse – the failure of social distancing. 

However, I know that if we don't go in and support our local businesses, they may not be there in future when we want them.

So I’m sure I shall be tempted into the shops very soon, but just for the moment, in my mind, I am still picturing St Albans town centre as a far-off magical place where everything remains perfect even in spite of Corona Virus.

Photo by Emily Fletke on Unsplash

Make your own milk!

I’m a great one for avoiding faff. 

But logic made me change my mind this week.

After approximately six weeks of trudging to the Co-op mainly in order to score some milk, I finally remembered that some of my acquaintances had mentioned making their own milk.

Before you recoil in horror, I mean oat milk.

Oat milk is way greener than dairy milk in terms of carbon footprint.  Even greener than soya milk. 

I had mentally filed it under ‘faff’, but right now, it looks like less faff than social distancing at the Co-op.

This, coupled with the fact that we now have about 2 kilos of porridge oats which Nigel has rejected as being ‘Not the kind I like’, means that the time has come to make oat milk.

The first recipe I looked at described the problem of milk turning out slimy.  This was a bit off-putting, especially as my first batch really was slimy and sank like a stone in my tea.  

However, I tried again with a different recipe and this time it still sank like a stone, but at least it wasn’t slimy.

Nigel’s not keen, but I’m going to keep going.  I like a challenge.  And if I succeed, even after Lockdown ends (someday), it means we’ll have fewer of those hard-to-recycle tetrapaks.