As the largest national park in England, and muse to the likes of Wordsworth and Swift (Taylor, not Jonathan), the Lake District needs no introduction. My friend Anthony, on the other hand, who has yet to appear on a postcard or be recognised by Unesco, almost certainly does.
Anthony and I have been mates since university. Between our second and third years, Anthony found himself bearing the awkward responsibility of marketing the drama society’s production at that year’s Edinburgh fringe. When I spotted Anthony’s call for assistance pinned to a noticeboard in the campus launderette, I unwisely volunteered to be his aide for a fortnight. While the task of flogging a feminist reworking of The Wind in the Willows was rarely straightforward, the ordeal did pay the significant dividend of forging a solid friendship that continues to this day.
