Cumbria

Yes, I remember when the changeful earth, and twice five summers on my mind had stamped the faces of the moving year; even then I held unconscious intercourse with beauty old as creation, drinking in a pure organic pleasure from the silver wreaths of curling mist, or from the level plain of waters coloured by impending clouds.

The sands of Westmoreland, the creeks and bays of Cumbria's rocky limits, they can tell how, when the sea threw off his evening shade, and to the shepherd's hut on distant hills sent welcome notice of the rising moon.

Now I have stood, to fancies such as these a stranger, linking with the spectacle no conscious memory of a kindred sight, and bringing with me no peculiar sense of quietness or peace: yet have I stood, even while mine eye hath moved o'er many a league of shining water, gathering as it seemed through every herb red, in that field of light new pleasure, like a bee among the flowers.

Thus, oft amid those fits of vulgar joy which, through all seasons on a child's pursuits are prompt attendants—'mid that giddy bliss which, like a tempest, works along the blood and is forgotten—even then I felt gleams like the flashing of a shield; the earth and common face of nature spake to me rememberable things; sometimes, 'tis true, by chance collisions and quaint accidents, like those ill-sorted unions, work supposed of evil-minded fairies: yet not vain nor profitless, if haply they impressed collateral objects and appearances, albeit lifeless then, and doomed to sleep until maturer seasons called them forth to impregnate and to elevate the mind.

Yes, I remember when the changeful earth, and twice five summers on my mind had stamped the faces of the moving year: even then I held unconscious intercourse with beauty old as creation, drinking in a pure organic pleasure from the silver wreaths of curling mist, or from the level plain of waters coloured by impending clouds.

The sands of Westmoreland, the creeks and bays of Cumbria's rocky limits, they can tell how, when the sea threw off his evening shade, and to the shepherd's hut on distant hills sent welcome notice of the rising moon.

Now I have stood to fancies such as these a stranger, linking with the spectacle no conscious memory of a kindred sight, and bringing with me no peculiar sense of quietness or peace: yet have I stood, even while mine eye hath moved o'er many a league of shining water, gathering as it seemed through every hair-breadth in that field of light new pleasure, like a bee among the flowers.

Thus oft amid those fits of vulgar joy which through all seasons on a child's pursuits are prompt attendants, 'midst that giddy bliss which like a tempest works along the blood and is forgotten: even then I felt gleams like the flashing of a shield.

Yes, I remember when the change fell there, And twice five summers on my mind had stamped The faces of the moving year—even then I held unconscious intercourse with beauty Old as creation, drinking in a pure Organic pleasure from the silver wreaths Of curling mist, or from the level plain Of waters coloured by impending clouds.

The sands of Westmoreland, the creeks and bays Of Cumbria's rocky limits, they can tell How, when the sea threw off his evening shade And to the shepherd's hut on distant hills Sent welcome notice of the rising moon, Now I have stood, to fancies such as these A stranger, linking with the spectacle No conscious memory of a kindred sight, And bringing with me no peculiar sense Of quietness or peace: yet have I stood, Even while mine eye hath moved o'er many a league Of shining water, gathering as it seemed Through every herb-bred in that field of light New pleasure, like a bee among the flowers.

Thus oft amid those fits of vulgar joy Which through all seasons on a child's pursuits Are prompt attendants; 'mid that giddy bliss Which, like a tempest, works along the blood And is forgotten; even then I felt gleams Like the flashing of a shield.

The earth and common face of nature spake to me Rememberable things; sometimes, 'tis true, By chance collisions and quaint accidents, Like those ill-sorted unions, work supposed Of evil-minded fairies: yet not vain Nor profitless, if haply they impressed Collateral objects and appearances, Albeit lifeless then and doomed to sleep Until maturer seasons called them forth, To impregnate and to elevate the mind And if the vulgar joy by its own weight wearied itself out of the memory, the scenes which were a witness of that joy remained in their substantial lineaments depicted on the brain, and to the eye were visible, a daily sight.

So we fast forward just a few weeks to March of 2022.

Fiona decides to rent a wood cabin in Cumbria.

And while she does this, she's texting a number of her family members and her friends.

And the texts that she's sending are a little bit worrying.

Prior to that, 25 years around there, working in various accountancy finance roles across accountancy practice, construction, distribution, latterly manufacturing for 12 years.

And then the opportunity came up to join Cars Billington and being from Cumbria, born and bred, lived here my entire life.

It's a brand that you really recognise and resonate with and the same with the agricultural sector.

So... getting to know a bit more about the company, it was the right step for me at the time and I've never looked back.

So it's really good to see that.

the work that they're doing and how that can go through.

And people first are local to Cumbria, aren't they? They are, yes.

So they're

Yes, I remember when the changeful earth, and twice five summers on my mind had stamped the faces of the moving year; even then I held unconscious intercourse with beauty old as creation, drinking in a pure organic pleasure from the silver wreaths of curling mist, or from the level plain of waters coloured by impending clouds.

The sands of Westmoreland, the creeks and bays of Cumbria's rocky limits, they can tell how, when the sea threw off his evening shade, and to the shepherd's hut on distant hills sent welcome notice of the rising moon.

Now I have stood to fancies such as these a stranger, linking with the spectacle no conscious memory of a kindred sight, and bringing with me no peculiar sense of quietness or peace; yet have I stood, even while mine eye hath moved o'er many a league of shining water, gathering as it seemed through every hair-breadth in that field of light new pleasure like a bee among the flowers.

Thus oft amid those fits of vulgar joy which, through all seasons on a child's pursuits are prompt attendants, 'mid that giddy bliss which, like a tempest, works along the blood and is forgotten; even then I felt gleams like the flashing of a shield: the earth and common face of nature spake to me rememberable things; sometimes, 'tis true, by chance collisions and quaint accidents, like those ill-sorted unions, work supposed of evil-minded fairies; yet not vain nor profitless, if haply they impressed collateral objects and appearances, albeit lifeless then, and doomed to sleep until maturer seasons called them forth, to impregnate and to elevate the mind; and if the vulgar joy by its own weight wearied itself out of the memory, the scenes which were a witness of that joy remained in their substantial lineaments depicted on the brain, and to the eye were visible a daily sight.

So we fast forward just a few weeks to March of 2022.

Fiona decides to rent a wood cabin in Cumbria.

And while she does this, she's texting a number of her family members and her friends.

And the texts that she's sending are a little bit worrying.

Come on, Joe.

Cumbria in the

mid-90s.

There ain't no fucking internet there.