Sunday morning. In Keswick. Hung over and need petrol. Even the natural beauty of the Borrowdale pass and the invigorating calm of Derwent Water isn't clearing my head. There's a pie on the shelf. A Cranston's potato and meat pie. I can even put it on the joint account while I'm paying for petrol. Velvety top crust filled with pork rather than beef, though I barely notice at 8am on a Sunday morning with a stinking hangover. Anyway, now I've just bought a pie from a petrol station I'm off to the butchers for a gallon of unleaded.