IN the immortal words of the preening Captain Alberto Bertorelli of the Italian army in the comedy classic ’Allo ’Allo, “what a mistak-a to make-a”.

Cumbria has had its lowest rainfall since 1929. But suddenly the rains have come. What do you expect when there’s a hosepipe ban in operation? You simply can’t take liberties with the Lakeland weather.

It’s already rained on former Home Secretary David Blunkett’s parade. Having been flattened by a stampeding cow in the Peak District last summer, Mr. Blunkett now complains that his walking holiday in the Lake District has been a dampener, despite assurances from the weather gurus that it would remain fine.

However, Mr. Blunkett’s disillusion with the Met Office is nothing compared with the Lake District hotelier who was so firmly convinced of a long hot summer that he offered refunds to guests if a single drop of rain was recorded on the roof between the beginning of July and the end of September.

“We’re so convinced that we’re going to have a long hot summer in the Lake District that we’re prepared to gamble on it,” said Andrew MacKay, of The Samling, near Ambleside.

I wonder if he’s quite so convinced now. Still, with a guest list that includes the likes of Tom Cruise and David Beckham, perhaps they can afford to pay out.

I work on the basis that what rain doesn’t come down in one part of the year most certainly falls with a vengeance in another. That’s why so many shops in the Lake District retail vast numbers of cagoules and the rain in Borrowdale falls mainly on the plain and on the fells.

There are lessons here. While David Blunkett misguidedly put his trust in the weather forecast, the proprietors of The Samling were a bit too precipitate in their judgement of precipitation.

FASHION CHIC IS PANTS

THAT Julia Bradbury has got a lot to answer for. For years those of us who dwell in the Lake District have had no difficulty in spotting the posers. They’re the ones who roll up in their fast cars with their fast birds and head off to the local outdoor shop to equip themselves for the fells, only to spend their weekend breaks getting no closer to Scafell Pike and Skiddaw than Keswick Main Street and the pubs and coffee shops where they promenade their new-found look.

You could easily recognise the genuine walkers. They were the ones with holy, and I don’t mean religious, Herdwick jumpers; trousers scraped at the knees from scrambling up Lord’s Rake and Sharp Edge, and scuffed and muddied boots that might have been handed down from early pioneers of the crags.

Television does terrible things to people. Not least Lakeland guide book legend Alfred Wainwright, a man hardly known for his sartorial elegance. Since A.W.’s walks featured in a series fronted by Julia Bradbury his fame has spread to an extent that he is now a fashion icon.

The very idea of “Wainwright chic” would have horrified the old boy. According to one national retailer, demand for flat caps and hiking gear has soared since the television and radio series went out.

Debenhams’ director of menswear buying Paul Baldwin said: “We’re calling it ‘Wainwright Chic’. Men and women have fallen in love with the rugged outdoor image the hill climbing clothing style portrays, and want to wear it every day.

“At one time, these specialist clothes would have been bought only by long distance hill walkers and mountaineers. Now you’re more likely to see them worn on the streets of Kensington and Chelsea than Scafell or Grisedale Pike.”

Would Wainwright have seen himself as a Lakeland legend? I doubt it. Certainly not a dedicated leader of fashion. He would have hated the attention. Had he not been cremated and his ashes scattered on his beloved Haystacks, Wainwright would have surely have been spinning in his grave at the newspaper headline “The legend of Alf” which appeared this week — and in a local paper, to boot.

I suspect there’s a move afoot to soften Wainwright’s image. Turn him into a people person. Frankly I preferred him grumpy and curmudgeonly.? This posthumous attempt to render him a fashion trendy is just pants.

THE GLAMOROUS WORLD OF CAMPING

A NEW word has entered the Cumbrian tourism glossary — glamping.

With austerity on our doorstep and finance tight, tourists who may previously have stayed in hotels or flown to the Costas for their holidays, might start pitching up in pastures new this summer.

Glamorous camping sounds just right for people like me who struggle to extract the camping gear from the bag, let alone erect the tent.

The last night I attempted to spend in a tent was in Ennerdale about 30 years ago, during a mountain marathon. Having tramped 25 miles across the fells in torrential rain, a hurricane and the sight of a packet of dried beef curry, my only remaining sustenance, floating downstream? produced one of those “never again” moments which I have stuck with ever since.

Oh for one of the modern luxuries. A waiting Mongolian yurt complete with stove and futon or a ready erected camping pod. Campers today don’t know they are born. It’s not really camping at all.

Cumbria Tourism features various glamping options on a new website and, according to the Camping and Caravanning Club, camping is enjoying a resurgence. Last year it recruited 65,000 new members.

Great for families. But I doubt the purists will approve. Without a masochistic drenching, cold beans and rice for tea and a night spent clinging on to the guy ropes, it’s just not half the fun.

GIVING SOCIETIES OOOMPH

IF David Cameron’s vision of the “Big Society” is to work then first it’s got to strip away a lot of the bureaucracy and red tape, the nitpicking rules and regulations and suffocating correctness that makes life tougher than it should be for volunteer organisations.

All too often there’s a lack of joined up thinking. For instance, why should Cumbria’s mountain rescue teams have had to fight such a prolonged battle in the hope of getting VAT spent on emergency equipment reimbursed?

Mountain rescue saves the Government £6 million a year as a free emergency service. Westmorland MP Tim Farron deserves great credit for his support of the cause which may now be about to bear fruit.

And why should Penrith Rugby Club suddenly face an astronomical rise in its water bill — a threatened increase from £671 to nearly £11,000? Volunteer time wasted fighting stupid, intractable red tape which is putting the club’s youth activities at risk.

The unions have predictably slammed the Big Society as a cop out, making volunteers responsible for facilities the government ought to provide.

But a lot of people feel we have lost community spirit in recent times and I prefer to give Mr. Cameron’s plan a fair crack of the whip if it’s a genuine attempt to help social enterprises, charities and community groups by unleashing local energy and using money in unclaimed bank accounts rather than relying on government all the time.

The Prime Minister’s “communities with oomph” will only benefit if pathways are made easier for them and not bound up in nonsensical difficulties which seem to be a British speciality.