On the door was a typed note telling arriving guests to wash their boots (bucket and brush provided) and leave them and all wet clothing on the covered porch. Fair enough. On the stairs was a note reminding guests carrying luggage up not to scuff the wood floors. The room was Victoriana, right down to the claw-footed tub and the tea tray and table were set beautifully. The landlady had a sweet, melodious voice and wore a dress with an apron over it. She was that kind of lady.
So I was totally astonished when she came out to see us off and said that when the walking season ends and the B&B closes at the end of the month, she and her husband are heading off for eight weeks in Peru to hike the lesser known alternative to the Inca Trail. Alright, maybe my assumptions about her were dead wrong, but I'm still trying to imagine that.
She told a good story though, over breakfast. Seems she had recently bought a new black car and she was so proud of it. She polished it up to a high shine. And on a Sunday she and her husband decided to to go for a bit of a walk themselves. They drove up the fell as far as one can and parked the car. When they returned some hours later, she was horrified to find that someone had bashed in the side of her new car and not even left a note taking responsibility! She was terribly upset but took the car into the mechanic.
"Well," he says, examining the damage, " It doesn't happen often but I see it occasionally." And he pointed out to her the six sets of horn imprints bashed into the car by a ram, enraged and battering his own image in the shine of the car's finish. And she started laughing at that point, she said, because you can't be angry with a dumb animal, can you?
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