AWKWARDLY, FOR A PICTURE that inspired a purple poem… there’s not much purple in it.
I realised this afterwards; it’s predominantly blue and pink, and yet, from a distance – maybe a great one – it pulses purple to me. Other versions are available if you happen to have an aversion to these hues. Pink, purple and blue are old favourites of mine.
But anyway, WTR*? The last time I passed by here, in the summer, you could walk right up to this curious creation. Now it’s nearly a third submerged. Legend has it that sometimes it disappears altogether.
Would you prefer to call it the Century Stone or the Millennium Stone? The Centenary Stones or the Hundred-Year Stone? The choice is entirely yours, but it is, and I assume shall remain a lump of volcanic rock from the Borrowdale valley.
If you’re thinking that maybe it’s a fossilised tree trunk or even a mysterious pagan icon you were itching to dance naked around because of its strange circular markings, think again. Its present predicament only dates back to the halcyon days of 1995.
I’d been in France for a couple of years, Lady Eiffel was my muse, Pulp were in a Different Class, baguette and croissants were my, well, daily bread, when suddenly…
… some poor sod was handed a bow saw and a pat on the back, pointed in the direction of a flippin’ great boulder and told to get on with it and, oh yeah, “Try to have it done by 2000, will you, there’s a good lad? We’ve got a thing coming up and a name in mind for it…”
*WTR = “What the rock..?!”
In case you’re wondering, The Thing was done to mark 100 years of the National Trust, which owns and looks after a lot of our loveliest places and properties.
Many of those are in the Lake District, of course. These include Aira Force near Ullswater, Hill Top, Beatrix Potter’s place, various impressive abodes like Wray Castle and even a steam yacht gondola (it’s a Thing) on Conniston Water I’ll show you one day.
I’ll leave you with my purple ponderings over this particularly peculiar pebble. Until the next time…
Purple I Suppose
Purple flows and purple goes
Purple haze and purple doze
Purple froze my purple nose
Purple ways and purple prose
Purple sews and purple grows
Purple lays upon the sloes
Purple chose, a rose arose
Purple plays and purple glows
Purple throes and purple woes
Purple stays and purple shows
Purple toes in purple clothes
Purple slays in purple throes
Purple blows the purple crows
Purple gaze on purple snows
Purple days the strays disclose
Strike the soulful purple pose
Oops! It would be remiss of me not to mention the artist~sculptor~visionary who birthed this duolith – the split walnut thing, not the poem, I mean. It was the Brit, Peter Randall-Page, who has lots of his curious carved blobby pieces scattered around all over the place, and this is a worthy addition to his work.
A client I just showed this sculpture to asked if you put your hand in the middle of the ten cheesy-triangle shapes, a portal to another world would apocalyptically open, with associated sound and light effects blazing.
I said I believed so, but that as I wasn’t going to be the one to get his feet wet, confirmation would have to wait a bit. If you happen to be passing and fancy giving it a go, do so, just don’t come running back to me if it blows your arms and legs off, creating a space-time vortex that vaporises the whole of Derwentwater and any passing paddleboarding pootlers in the process! You have been warned. 
Peaceful purpling!
The Laggard of Lakeland 
(Lakeland Chronicles No.24)
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Wainwright Log: 5 of 214 Fells Felled / 0 Books Bashed / Visit Log
