‘Do you know where you’ll find the most lesbians in one place Mum?’ I asked.

‘Where love?’ She crunched. ‘In the Gay Village?’

‘No, The Lake District.’

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely, Windermere is heaving with lesbians. Kendal’s a bit quieter but Keswick is practically a convention.’

‘Is it?’ She slurped. ‘I wonder why?’

‘It’s obvious, lesbians love fresh air.’

‘Do they?’ 

I myself have been visiting the Lake District for most of my adult life and on most occasions it’s chucked it down. It’s the one place I go and expect it to be miserable.

Lesbians don’t mind getting drenched either. I’ve yet to see a lesbian run for cover when the heavens open, if anything they dance in the downpours. 

‘Walking boots, wellies, wet dogs, It’s a lesbian paradise.’

‘Is it?’

‘Ale trails, rucksacks and walking sticks are every lesbian’s dream.’

‘I’m not sure all lesbians like getting wet.’ She exclaimed.

I bit my tongue and carried on, that one was too easy.

‘You’ll find a lot of ‘vintage lesbians’ who have been going there for years, hardcore couples in their sixties wearing matching black Berghaus bobble hats. 

Saying that, the newer generations are increasingly following, in their shiny North Face regalia and can occasionally be spotted loitering around the pencil museum.

‘It’s not just the ‘Northern Lesbians’ that swarm to the beautiful Cumbrian hills though Mum.’ I added.

‘I’m quite sure it’s not love.’ She crunched.

‘It’s for anyone that has a sense of adventure and can’t be bothered driving all the way up to Scotland.’

30/11/2020