"Even if I got rid of all my problems, I'd just go out and get new ones..."

Introducing my mother
6:22 p.m. on 2003-10-21

My weekend... well, technically Sunday to today, Tuesday... has been somewhat, um, surreal.

I had a short holiday in the Lake District with my mother.

Now, for most 21 year olds, I imagine this isn't their idea of a good time. And to be fair, it isn't the first thing that leaps to my mind either, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy myself. And this isn't the first time I have gone away with her, either.

My mother and I have an, um, unusual relationship. I'm sure if I had a therapist, they would be writing articles about it. We're friends, more than mother and daughter, and as such we will talk about rather graphic things. Emotionally graphic, anyways. Such as relationships, the lack of, the copious amounts of, or the rather desperate state of the male end of the gene pool.

Then there was the hotel we were staying in. Keswick, the local town, is a hotspot for walkers (leggings tucked into their socks, map carefully folded into its waterproof jacket, and Kendall Mint Cake somewhere nice to hand) and pensioners.

You ever read that Miss Marple mystery, 'Bertram's Hotel'? It's about a hotel stuck in a time warp (no, not literally), where everything is carefully preserved so that whilst it has all the modern amenities such as central heating and American drinks, it appears to be living in 1920, when there were still chambermaids, and rooms especially designated for writing. Our hotel was like that.

Suffice it to say, the people nearest my age range (other than the cute male staff members) were two 5 year olds who belonged to a family.

Hmm.

So, imagine this environment. A classy hotel in the heart of the Lake District, surrounded by pensioners and waitresses who still say "it's my pleasure" after every dish they lay down before you. And me and my mother, eyeing up the said cute waiters, and discussing men. In loud voices. With copious swearwords.

I won't even tell you what the walkers overheard on our trek around the nearby lake. But Ricki Lake would have had a field day.

Listening to: Femme Fatale, by Ours

Quote: "I can't find it, I can't find it. Blue... red has taken it over. Red has been attacking all the colors. I've got to stop it. Yellow is next. Yellow doesn't stand a chance, ...poor yellow."

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