The Day I Rescued A Baby From The Lake

It is important to note that the following story is completely and utterly true. Unlike this story, this story and this one.

Keswick is one of my favourite places on earth. It has that unique English quality to it: understated beauty and subtle majesty. (In other words, the scenery could show off about how great it is but it but it chooses not to. It's like that kid in your class that is great at everything but still manages to be nice and you can't help liking....)

Anyway, I love Keswick. Even when it rains. And it rains a lot. This weekend was no different. The cottage I was staying in was deliciously small and strange, but after a day of being holed up in it, watching other people play Scrabble, I had to escape. The rain could not hold me back. 

I persuaded my Mam to escape with me. We donned every item of clothing we could in the hope that the rain and cold would somehow be put off by our layers. We carried a huge red and white umbrella. We trudged through soggy leaves. We watched the ducks try to avoid being pelted by the giant vicious rain drops. We found a pair of shoes and rescued them. We marvelled at how high the lake had been. We saw imaginary creatures in the tangled roots of trees. We then gave in and decided to walk back.

It was then that we heard it.

An almighty splash.

We turned and looked. 

On one of the little wooden jetties that stick out into the water stood two shocked people. A man and a woman. Below them in the water were two handles, like those of a pram, sticking out but slowly sinking...

We ran.

By the time we got there I had figured out, mainly by the inaction and elderly age of the couple on the jetty, that it was not, in fact, a pram and baby that had fallen into the lake. No. But it was nearly as bad; the lady's Super Snazzy Wheeled Zimmer Frame had slipped from her grasp and into the murky depths of the cold lake. What is more... her shopping was in it. I feared that if we did not rescue the aforementioned walker, she would not only be stuck forever on the wooden jetty but that she would waste away through lack of teacakes and digestive biscuits.

This called for drastic action. 

"Hold my legs, Mam, while I lean dangerously over the edge and risk life and limb to rescue this Super Snazzy Wheeled Zimmer Frame!" I yelled, rolling up my sleeves.

"Don't be daft," she replied, "Just use the umbrella to drag it in."

Which, it turns out was a better idea...not as dramatic, but certainly drier.

So that is what we did. I leaned over and tried to hook the umbrella round the handle whilst the man reached out with his hands. For a moment, it looked like our task would be easy. I pulled, he pulled, the walker came closer...the digestive biscuits were in our grasp.  In my excitement, I pulled a little harder. This was a Bad Idea.

The end of the umbrella that was hooked around the walker somehow slipped and rebounded back powerfully...right into the face of the man. He fell back, grasping his hands to his face. Muffled sounds of pain came through his fingers. The walker sunk lower. I was mortified.

But, being the staunch English folk that we are, we carried on. The man quickly recovered from his pain (although he did make sure to stand a little further away from me) and I quickly calmed my embarrassed blushes. We continued to heave. We pulled with all our might. We dragged the walker out of the lake, digestive biscuits and all. We were victorious. 

We stood there for a moment, wet and exhausted, enjoying our moment of victory. The walker's sliver frame glimmered as the water dripped down its slender legs. For a short minute, the rain stopped. The sun shone. I turned to the man.

"I'm sorry I hit you in the head," I said.

"It's okay," he said.

...and I walked away with a sense of satisfaction and very wet knees.