My father is a member and fell in love with the Lake District in 1940 at The Great Tower Scout Camp. He is now 91 and lives with my mum in deepest Oxfordshire, having sold their bungalow in Keswick a few years ago. But we miss the Lakes terribly. I was looking through some old photos and wrote this Ode to Lakeland. Dad thought I should send it to you.

Kind regards, Paul Hodgson

'Missing the Lake District in Lockdown'

On rainy days the mountains hide behind their misty cloaks

Their stubble made from conifers and older English Oaks


On sunny days they stand aloft in glory, all their own

The sunlight glinting beautifully on ancient, barren stone


The streams cascade with youthful speed, the rivers gently flow,

Meandering towards the lake which lies in wait below


The hikers clad in colours bright traverse the teeming shore

By trusting scars on footpaths made by those who trod before.


The twilight creeps incessantly across the hills and glen

The shadows climb the mountainside and swallow up the fen


The golden sunset glows atop the rugged Skiddaw peak

Whilst down below is silent, save the torrent of the creek


And only those who know their way can navigate the dale

The rodent or the tawny owl whose senses seldom fail.


Until another day arrives with brightness, dry and warm

Whilst some would call this lockdown, in the Lakes it’s just the norm. 

Paul Hodgson – April 2020