So times move on. It's May 1977. If you were an Abba fan, then you probably had a copy of 'Knowing me knowing you' - I wasn't, so I didn't. Still had no moped, no girlfriend. End of school was in sight and the Salad day's were about to end.. But one last flourish before the shock of adulthood was in order.
A trip to the Lake District was in the offing, and my local youth club had booked a mini-bus, I found myself adding my name to the travel list along with buddies Ian and Mike so one Friday in May 1977 we find ourselves trundling up the M6 toward Keswick. A weekend with teenage friends, without the shackles of adults seemed appealing. OK, there were the youth workers, but they had an air of liberalism about them that suggested we could make the weekend interesting.
Arriving at the youth Hostel just north of Grasmere, we discovered a malevolent looking stone building miles from anywhere. 'Dunmail Rise' it was called. We were told it had been an isolation hospital, and that the large stone shelves adjacent to the kitchen had been the slabs on which the bodies were laid. I've no idea if it were true, but the story kept a large group of teenagers from wandering around at night!
Having dropped the bags upstairs, I trogged into the front room of the house, and in my 'I'm not interested in Sue any more' mode, set about chatting up one of the girls from the youth Club, who I'll call Carol, as I think that's what her name was. Now I wasn't very good at this at all, but somehow the being away from home thing caused a rush of blood to the head, and I was far more forward than I ever had been before, or indeed should have been at all. The basis of the conversation was along the lines that there was plenty of room in my sleeping bag if it got cold (Ignoring the other 10 people sleeping in the room of course). Carols response was something along the lines of f*ck off - and to be honest, looking back I don't hold it against her.
My Mate (Mike) and I, went outside and surveyed the mountain above the Hostel, gazing at the imposing fellside, we hatched a plan to walk to the ridge above in the remaining daylight, so we toiled up to the ridge, only to see another ridge, and again we went on. Eventually we arrived on the edge of that ridge, only to see the summit some way off. I wasn't overly keen on the light level, and showed some common sense by suggesting we turn back down the hill. But Mike said no, and struck forward by himself. I committed the cardinal sin of turning back and leaving him. By the time I got down the hill it was dark, and as you will know if you've ever been in the countryside in the darkness, its properly dark! Mikes absence caused consternation amongst the rest of the crew, and once again I displayed how sensible I was by telling the youth leader how I was against the plan, and the risks involved being on the mountain without the correct equipment. Except they weren't interested in how sensible I was, just the welfare of somebody who clearly wasn't sensible.
With no mobile phones, and no phone in the lodge, somebody would have to report him missing by driving to the nearest town if he didn't arrive back soon..We waited. At about 10.30Pm, the door burst open, and Mike came in. Cold, bedraggled and telling tales about how he made it to the top AND escaped from the Wolves (I may have made that up, but it was some bollocks or other) - Everybody was his friend, and wanting to hug him and tell him how glad they were that he was safe. including Carol. What on earth? - When I'm idiotic I get berated as the idiot I purport to be. - When somebody else is idiotic, everybody's concerned about him and he's a hero.. Work that out.
To this day I doubt he made it up there and back in the time available, but short of going up there and checking if he put a flag on top I shall never be able to prove it.
That night in the dormitory, we had been joined by a small group of teenagers from another town, and as we lay in the dark chatting, they intervened in our conversation and attempted to intimidate us. Clearly they were rough lads and it took all my verbal skills to joust with them and not get a beating. The same didn't work for another of the lads whose attempt at a brush off involved him being threatened with a severe kicking. He shut up of course, humiliated in front of us all, while I had acquired some form of respect from the lads across the room. So I slept that with some of the battered self confidence restored. There was some good banter that night, and I am reminded about the nautical story told about the the 'Ship tossing on the sea - while the crew did likewise down below' - and of course the inevitable ghost story involving a severed hand of a dead murderer that crawls around at night throttling teenagers in their sleeping bags. - I always told that one.....
Saturday brought a trip into Keswick, and left to our own devices, we did what normal teenagers do, and found an off-license that would serve us alcohol illegally. So there's 3 of us and a couple of bottles of cider, all that beautiful countryside, and we're throwing up in the park. Philistines!
Have you ever had point in life, where you have the most fleeting glimpse of something beautiful? Something that isn't quite within your grasp, something that you see once and never again? well that was my Saturday night in May 1977. In an old hall, with music playing she walked into my life and I have the picture of her stored away, her red and black striped T-Shirt that hair, those eyes!
With another youth group, she danced played pool, drank pop and then left. And whenever I hear Boz Scaggs 'Lido Shuffle', wherever I am, my mind drifts to Castlerigg Manor and the girl from Carlisle. God bless you, wherever you may be.
It's not all plain sailing for the rest of the weekend - I arrived back in Lancashire suffering from food poisoning and projectile vomiting with the most vile stomach cramps. I was ill for days. - Must have been the bodies in the kitchen hey?
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