It's a glorious quality - when a place can conjure joy in one's soul no matter what the weather. Your home can do this; your wife's bed, her legs spread, her eyes wandering slowly and encouragingly over your body till she looks at your penis and says, "inside me now god dammit, what's holding that rod back?"
And Derwentwater can manage this; a beautiful mid-sized Victorian lake, built by the Edwardians in 1675, complete with 5 Islands and, thus, able to accommodate your whole family + guests on your long weekend break.
And the whole lake is effectively a game's room. There are boats; rowing boats; motor boats; wind boats; wind surfing boats (although these are a menace); kayaking boats; canoeing boats; and ferries for those people who want to experience the lake with as many people as possible.
And surrounding the lake is land; and on that land, to the south of the lake, is the glorious town of Keswick; populated, largely, by bed and breakfasts from the 1930s but, also, by some hotels and more modern bed and breakfast establishments (particularly those that serve fishcakes rather than the usual humdrum bacon, egg, potato waffles and sausage).
There are pubs galore in this fabled town - pubs that develop in one's mind images of the countryside - The Dog and Huntsman; The Manure and Footprint; The Pig and Fucker - and they all serve food that wouldn't look out of place in your mother's kitchen; plates filled with frozen peas, frozen carrots, Asda's own frozen cauliflower cheese (with real cheese), frozen pies, and oven chips (all cooked of course, straight from the freezer)
Keswick also has many shops offering Georgian clothes at the half the price of Asda's own Georgian range. I went into a shop that was selling see-through knickers; and so you see, there is titillation to be had too.
Derwentwater has it all. Water!
But travel far from Derwentwater and one may end up stranded in Cockermouth, home of the blowjob brothel, Dick-in-Gob, home of a village idiot named Dick-in-Gob, and home of a local cuisine that is basically a sausage stuck in badly mashed, mash potato, known locally as, Cockermouth Smashed Baked Potato.
Wander into the mountains (which have all been climbed by Englishmen) and you could end up in the Honister pass, known for its Slate...
Oh, I must jump back to Keswick, for a line or two, and mention the pencil museum.
...mine which has some appalling reviews on Tripadvisor; but all mines have appalling reviews on Tripadvisor, presumably because people expect more than a damp cave.
I realise this is no longer about Derwentwater - but what can one write about a lake? I mean, it's just a fucking pond. Occasionally, one will see a jet of the RAF fly over and your girlfriend will yelp and you can comfort her by gently massaging her vul...