It was one
of those plans that you make at 10:30 at night because somebody said something random
and then somebody else said, “You know, I’d actually do that” and then the
other person said, “Yeah, well, I was actually serious” and then, before you
know it, everybody is planning to wake up at 4:30 to catch the 4:50 sunrise.
It
was one of those plans that sounds really great at 10:30 pm, when you're warm, dry and very
awake. It was Rachel’s birthday, after all, and the last time she’d tried to
get up for the sunrise, it hadn’t worked out—so this was round two of Operation
See-A-Sunrise-In-England.
Unfortunately, it was also one of those plans that didn’t
sound near as fantastic the next morning when only four of us (out of the
original seven) stood sleepy and silent in the self-catering kitchen of the YHA
Ambleside as the tea brewed. Rachel (the birthday girl) hadn’t made it out of
bed, and it looked cloudy outside, but we grabbed mugs and the tea kettle and
made our way outside anyway. It wasn’t really raining, but it was wet, and it
seemed like everywhere we looked, the world was just dark, blue, and cold.
Not
good weather for an early morning tea party on the dock.
And it soon became clear that the
only dry place even remotely near the dock was a picnic table partially covered
by an umbrella—if we sat back to back, two on one side, two on the other with
our feet on the benches, there was just enough room for four butts on the
tabletop. So we poured our tea, giggling and shivering, and then took our
places silently. The wind was sharp and if it blew just right, all the water that
had accumulated on the umbrella sprinkled down on top of us. This happened
regularly and each time was greeted with little gasps and muffled exclamations.
There wasn’t very much conversation, but there was quite a lot of laughter,
though I can’t remember what about. We really didn’t do much aside from watch
the clouds over the mountains and the boats rocking, occasionally making a
comment about the complete lack of sunrise.
It was cold, even with a sweater
on, so I drank my tea slowly, holding the cup close to my face so the steam
warmed my nose. It wasn’t long before Claire said she was done and went back in
to bed, and then it was just Carolyn, Elena, and I. We stayed out until the tea
in our mugs was gone, but to our dismay the kettle still had enough for a least
two more cups. So when Elena wanted to walk out on the dock before we went inside,
I took the pot with and in the spirit of early-morning-etiquette-breaking I took
a drink directly from it—it was 5 am, after all, and there was no one to tell me
that it’s rude. Carolyn and Elena did the same and then the three of us stood
awkwardly at the end of the dock holding our one quarter full pot of Earl Grey
tea, not sure what we were supposed to be doing with ourselves.
I expect if we
were real English Majors, some dramatic music would have started playing and
someone would have said something mildly profound about life as we stared out
over the water and the wind whipped our hair.
But instead we poured out the rest of the tea, washed our dishes, and climbed the four flights of stairs to our rooms without a sunrise or a profound statement--we did, however, have the knowledge that we had joined the elite club of people who've drunk tea from the kettle on the shores of Lake Windermere, and that was just enough to make up for the lack of sleep.
