While the Land Rover was having its Make-Money-Disappear functions tweaked we soothed our souls on and around the shores of Coniston Water.
Smoke from a bonfire had merged with a morning mist and hung in a thick ribbon in the still morning air above the lake. Above the haze the sky was as clear and as blue as you'll ever find in the Lake District. The blue reflected in the glassy smooth water and the autumnal shades on the trees were psychedelically enhanced through my rose-tinted glasses. Usually when you remove your pink lenses the world can look a bit drab, but not on this day.
We found a log to sit on by the shore. A fighter jet, a helicopter and a tiny sea-plane were the mechanical reminders that we were grasping at a few minutes retreat from the twenty-first century. Ruskin would be pulling out his wiry old beard!