Once upon a time I lived in the Lake District.
Without sounding too sentimental, I loved it. I was there for less than a year, but in that year I grew very attached to the village of Grasmere and those who lived in it.
By day we worked at the Wordsworth Trust and at night we lived in a row of Victorian terraces, with slate floors, open fires and herdwick sheep skulls on the windowsills.
Life was tranquil, fun and secluded. We spent days off rowing on the lake, picnicking on the island, walking into neighbouring vales for ale and cooking road kill.
In a very apt way it was a romantic existence.
That was 2007.
Now, 10 years down the line, we reunited for one night only in the vale we all know and love.
A group of four friends celebrating a decade of friendship and shared existences, of memories made together and lives lived together.
We spent the weekend doing what we know best in the gorgeous Lakes – walking, talking, consuming ale and sharing time.
We walked around Rydal water, Grasmere lake, bought Cumberland sausage, drank, danced to a live band, laughed, listened to poetry, swam in the lake and explored its caves.
The chance to spend time in an area where shared memories have been made with amazing friends is a true tonic for the soul. And to be able to do this in a place as gorgeously beautiful as the Lake District is a real treat.
We must always make time for those we love and hold dear.