Mountainous Enlightenment

I'm still on a high from the Lake District. This is probably going to sound silly, but here goes anyway. The feeling is slowly leaving me so I should really get this written down before it has waned completely.

It's as if I found a sort of philosophical enlightenment while I was there, and while I was staring over the Yorkshire Dales. Certain things have seemed less important since I came back: the way one dresses, the time one takes to get from one place to another, entertainment more complex than a good book or conversation, the water cooler politics and rumours at work, planning for the future, money...

Discussions about what was on television and what so and so said, or disputes between sciences or religions; they all seem so damned small in comparison to the central feeling of peace I felt when I was clambering up that mountain. I just want to grab people and make them see that enlightening moment through my eyes so they can see how small and petty everything is in comparison.

Crikey. I sound like I found the Rose or something.

Maybe all the fumes on the motorway have done something silly with my head. Maybe I just need to get some more sleep and do something about my perilously empty fridge.

One thing's for certain: sitting here in my flat feels more than ever like inhabiting a grey and colourless world.

Oop North

I'm back from half a week in Yorkshire.

It were brilliant. Walking on Ilkley Moor; seeing the Cow and Calf, exploring the quarries and cliffs, climbing alongside the streams amidst small stands of trees. The heather was in full bloom, and from the higher points you could see across the valley to the hills on the other side. They were all bright purple with heather.

There was also Bolton Abbey and the river nearby. Even though it was raining, there were kids swimming as if it was the height of summer... which it was supposed to be.

The sky was darker up north, but the land was greener. And the clouds are different. I'm not entirely sure how they're different, but they are.

For me, the highlight of the whole trip was going to the Lake District. Mountains. Lakes and rivers and streams and forests and valleys and mountains. It was raining very hard, but it didn't really matter. After getting completely soaked, you just get used to it. I must visit again next year, for a few days rather than just a few fleeting hours.

Web Designer

This helpful fellow called John Nash came to fix the damp in my bathroom today. He's been here before; he fixed the damp in my lounge/bedroom and kitchen. The damp in the bathroom was not present during his first visit.

Last time he was here, we were chatting and I made the ever-fatal mistake of mentioning what I do for a living. He asked if I worked on web sites, then asked if I could improve his website. I hadn't looked into it for a while, and virtually forgot about it until his visit today.

He asked about improving his website again and I took another look at it. As you can see, it's pretty basic. Basic enough that some of the images haven't been properly resized. So this time I've agreed to work on a new design for his site. He says thank you very much and is off to his next call-out.

That was eight hours or so ago and I've already finished his new website. I also went shopping, picked up a parcel from the post office, cooked dinner, ate, read some of GURPS: Thaumatology and GURPS: Fantasy, played Fallout 3 (until a wild BSOD appeared), and Mount & Blade. So I should guess I put no more than five hours absolute maximum into working on the new site.

Man. It was a breeze.

Let's say, for example, that Mr. Nash was charged £200 for his current website... I wonder how much I could charge for a better presented one? I already told him that since I don't really do this sort of thing professionally as a freelance designer/webmaster or anything, so I'm not going to charge him what he was originally charged.

But even if I was (comparatively) generous only charged him £50 - that'd cover my fuel for the trip to Yorkshire I'm undertaking next week. Or I could get a proper wooden waster, cover the bill for my wisdom teeth (if the NHS doesn't cover it), or get a new book. A surprise £50-£100 every now and then for half a weekend's work is nothing to be sniffed at.

Notepad++ is a million times better than Dreamweaver or FrontPage. A million times.

Pollen

I could hardly see the woods on the far side of the valley for pappi, and seeds drifting idly on the light breeze. Only the uppermost branches of the trees were moving, and even then they moved only ever-so slightly. The rest of the forest was remarkably still; woken only by occasional cool breaths of air that were very welcome under the baking heat of the sun.

If there had been any doubt that we were still in summertime, there was none now. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, chest, and neck already; and I had been in the sun for hardly more than a minute.

The enchanting dichotomy of a perfectly still forest, set as a background for the dancing snow of parachutes that waltzed around me, was enthralling.

I felt myself relax. There were no people; you could only just hear the roads. There was only the occasional rustling of a rabbit or small bird among the ferns and grasses, or the humming of a dragonfly's wings as it hovered over the ground in search of whatever it is that dragonflies crave.

I regret that the distance I can wander in these places is limited by how much water I can comfortably carry. I drank a litre of water, had only covered about a mile, and had nothing left to drink. Fortunately the way back was mostly downhill.

Some of the paths were overgrown with flowers and weeds; others were virtually impassable without something to cut down the foliage. I must go again.