Chatsworth House

Holiday 2021 continues…

We were staying about half an hour from Chatsworth House, which we visited 10 years ago and enjoyed, so it was a good way to occupy a rainy afternoon in July. The house is now mainly famous for that scene with Colin Firth swimming in the lake in Pride and Prejudice, which is a little ironic considering the history of the house. It was also the home of Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire, who entertained the aristocracy in the 1700’s, and was a sort of olden-days movie star—so perhaps the link to recent films is appropriate after all.

We set off after lunch, Emm stating that he didn’t much like old houses and deciding to stay at home. I don’t much like old houses either, but I dimly remembered that this one was worth seeing, and it made a change from long walks.

The house has the most impressive golden gates at the entrance (someone possibly had ideas above themselves) but we weren’t allowed to use them (hoping that isn’t a premonition) and we were directed through the park. We showed our tickets, which cost £24 each, and were timed. We were told not to arrive before our designated time, and the first available tickets were mid-afternoon, with no reduction in price despite the grounds closing at 5pm. I felt this was too expensive, but I wasn’t part of the planning committee, so tried to not complain (not very good at that).

The house is stuffed full of art. As you walk around, there are masterpieces by ancient masters, artifacts ‘stolen’ from ancient Egypt, and modern art, all jumbled together. I don’t like much modern art, but some of the older works were fabulous.

There was also a portrait of Georgiana, the Duchess whose life was in many ways like Princess Diana’s. The portrait is interesting because she has six toes. I don’t know why (I did ask, but the guides didn’t seem to know either). Maybe she really did have six toes, or maybe it was to represent her rather unusual life (she was forced to live with her husband and his mistress, and was pursued by the newspapers and was a great influencer of both fashion and politics in her day). She looked nothing like Kiera Knightly though, who plays her in the recent film of her life. I bought a copy of her biography in the gift shop (the Duchess, not Kiera). I’ll write about it in a later blog if it’s interesting.

We zoomed round the house fairly quickly, because old houses tend to all be quite similar (in my opinion). Too dim and crowded and full of tourists, so you never manage to get a sense of real people actually living there. They resemble museums. I don’t like most museums.

The gardens however, were lovely. There was a big concrete block (it was actually granite) which was some kind of memorial to soldiers. It was called The Antithesis of Sarcophagi and I was busy saying what rubbish/not art/ugly it was, when Son 2 told me to peer through one of the little holes in the side. Inside was a jungle. Wow! It was brilliant, you felt as if you were peering at a whole rainforest, growing in a cube. Very clever. Sometimes modern art is brilliant (but mostly not).

The rest of the gardens were lovely too. There was a rock garden, with the biggest rocks you can imagine, and one very clever structure that was finely balanced and could be moved if you touched it. There was a walled garden, and long pathways, and a wild flower garden, and a lake and everything, really, that you might hope to find in the garden of a palace. I was tempted to pick myself a bunch of flowers (compensation for the £24 entrance fee even though we had limited time due to designated ticket system). But family told me they wouldn’t visit me if I was in prison, so I decided not to.

It was an interesting afternoon (well, half-afternoon—I can’t quite get over the price of entry). If you know the present Duchess of Devonshire, perhaps you could mention the unfair pricing to her. The people who lived there in the past were good at changing things.

Hope you have a lovely day. Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

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Millthorpe is not The Peak District (though it tries).

Posted by anneethompson

Family Holiday 2021 continued.

We packed up the house in the Lake District and left. Everyone felt slightly dirty due to water shortage/lack of showering ability. Our next holiday home was in the Peak District, and we hoped they had more water. The drive was busy, as Saturdays in July are full of people leaving and arriving on holiday, but we didn’t meet any major hold-ups. Our journey took us through the outskirts of Sheffield, and we began to wonder how near the city our Airbnb would be. The details had described it as being in the grounds of Carpenter House, in an area of beautiful countryside, but we were beginning to worry.

At the last minute, the roads turned away from the city, we drove through a few fields, and arrived at the little hamlet of Millthorpe. It was not exactly the Peak District, but was far enough from the city to not feel crowded. There were several fields of horses, and lots of the houses had stables attached—clearly an area for the horsey people of Sheffield to live.

Went for a walk across the fields. More horses. I am very comfortable with all cows and sheep; horses make me nervous but we weren’t eaten or stampeded. Walked to the local Royal Oak for dinner. The pub was ancient, with low beams and a huge fireplace. The menu was limited unless you are a cheese-lover (everything had cheese, and fried cheeses made a very nice, if rather unhealthy, starter).

Sunday 25^th July

The family voted to go paddle-boarding. They discovered you could hire boards and wet suits at Tittesworth Reservoir (with a name like that, I really hope they did a Google search for ‘paddle boarding’ and not something else!)

The drive took us through the Peak District, which is beautiful and very near to Millthorpe. The weather was less sunny than last week, but still warm. We arrived at the car park, and saw several families hiring wet suits, squeezing into the little changing cubicles, struggling to carry the unwieldy boards. I decided that paddle boarding was not something I wanted to do (I felt that complete lack of co-ordination, no ability to balance and not being a good swimmer would make it less fun). Went for a walk with Bea while the others pootled about on the water for an hour.

Everyone seemed to have fun, and we discussed it (at length) in the pub afterwards. I had real trouble remembering that the term is ‘paddle-boarding’ and not ‘water-boarding’ so I kept asking them about their experience of torture.

Monday 26^th July

We went for a walk to Lud’s Church. This is a cavern, tucked into the Peak District, and makes for a pretty walk. There are many stories and legends swirling around the cavern, and Emm assured me it was the spookiest place in the world.

We walked along a pretty footpath through the woods, the sun was shining, birds singing, ferns carpeted the floor. Hard to see why it was spooky. We arrived at the cavern, and the temperature dropped as we walked between the giant-sided rocks, taking care not to slip on the moss. It was easier to understand (slightly) why someone might think the cavern was haunted. It then transpired that he had visited at dusk, on Halloween, when all the trees were bare and everywhere was gloomy and cold—that would definitely be spooky.

We left the cavern and walked up to the Roaches, which are big rocks protruding from the hills. Great views of the valley.

Tuesday 27^th July

Walked up Mam Tor, near Castleton. This is about as high as my knees can manage, but actually was very easy as there are paths all the way and no scary precipice to make me dizzy. It was a long walk, and I was pleased to reach the top. Asked Husband to take photo for blog. Family photo-bombed. I informed them the photo was for a blog, and I would use it whatever they looked like. Posed for another photo. No better. Decided to use it anyway.

In the afternoon, we visited Chatsworth House. But that will have to wait for another blog.

Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

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A Holiday in The Lake District

Posted by anneethompson

Tuesday 20^th July
Our holiday in the Lake District continues—without us actually managing to visit a lake. The weather was boiling hot, so actually visiting a lake would have been a good idea, but instead we decided to go for lots of long walks. I was not part of the planning committee, though to be fair, the area is beautiful, even with sweat dripping into your eyes.

Our Airbnb is in Newlands Valley, and we found a lovely walk from the house that was relatively flat (even the planning committee decided big hills were a bad idea in the heat). There was a little ancient church with a school attached, and bubbling brooks, and sheep huddled in the shade of every tree.

An ancient church nestling in the valley.

We had dinner at The Royal Oak in Keswick (Husband likes booking Royal Oak pubs. It’s a thing.) The food was delicious, and despite being very crowded, the pub seemed clean. All the staff wore masks, which seems a polite thing to do at the moment.

Wednesday 21^st July

We walked in the valley again, going a little further this time so we managed a loop. The valley stretches beyond the roads, and the path disappears into the fold of the hills. I would love to walk further, but the weather is too hot.

In the afternoon we decided to drive somewhere pretty (though everywhere is pretty, so not sure why) and go for another stroll. We drove to Honister Slate Mine, which is a working mine with tours and climbing lessons and a gift shop. It also has a lot of tourists in a Covid-world in July. I am not keen on climbing or mines or tourists, so it wasn’t my favourite place. Had a quick look at the gift shop, which was full of beautiful things that I couldn’t afford. Walked in a different area, where there were fewer tourists.

We ate at The Royal Oak in Keswick again. It was so good last time, several of us chose the same dishes. The food was tasteless—must have been a different chef.

Thursday 22^nd July
We walked the same loop of the valley, past the old church. It was still beautiful, still very hot. I still didn’t manage to walk further into the hills.

In the afternoon we drove into the hills to Watendlath Tarn. The roads there were clearly built for horses rather than cars, and were so narrow that sometimes the hedge brushed both sides of the car. The lanes twisted up steep hills, and you hoped you wouldn’t meet a car coming in the opposite direction—but of course in July, it was inevitable and we would have to reverse back to a passing place. Occasionally the passing place was filled by a parked car, and we would have to reverse even further. Unfortunately Husband quite loudly stated his views of people who park in passing places, at a moment when his window was down, and so was the window of the parked car. We managed to pass without a punch-up!

The journey was slow, but so very beautiful. After winding up and up, we began to drive downhill, but not for very long when we rounded a last bend, and there was the car park. There were toilets (which were locked) and a tea room (which was closed) and the tarn, shimmering in the sunlight. It was much prettier than the photo. We strolled, and paddled, and enjoyed the beauty. There weren’t many other people there, which was nice—probably they were stranded somewhere due to all the parked cars in passing places along the route.

A tarn, high in the dip of the mountains.

We had a final dinner at the Royal Oak in Keswick. The food was tasty again, so the Tuesday chef must have returned. I did notice that no one was now wearing a mask. It’s weird how noticeable that has become.

In the evening we were contacted by a neighbour and asked to limit our water usage. The hamlet is fed from a stream, and it was getting low. Maybe we’ll have to visit another lake after all, to wash and do laundry.

Thanks for reading. Next week I’ll tell you about the second stage of our holiday, in the Peak District. One day we went paddle boarding, which I kept mistakenly calling ‘water-boarding!’ I promise there was no torture involved.

Take care.
Love, Anne x

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Running Away to Devon

Posted by anneethompson

We decided to run away for a week before Boris announced another lockdown, so we filled the car with warm clothes ready for wet weather, and with food so we could avoid eating out, and drove to Devon with the dog and a boy.

The Ship Aground Inn, Mortehoe — The Ship Aground, Mortehoe. Named after the ancient anchor retrieved from a wreck of a steamship that ran aground in 1914.

We’re staying in Mortehoe, a pretty stone village on the cliffs of North Devon. I brought all my Greek books and lists of words to learn, and the cottage promised internet, enabling me to continue my lessons whilst looking across a windy garden to the sea.

Trying to learn Greek vocab with a view of the sea from the window.

The cottage is fairly ugly on the outside, but the inside is warm and comfortable, and there are massive windows in every room, giving wonderful views of the outside. This includes in the ensuite bathroom, which I find slightly perturbing. There is a big bath in the centre of the room, next to a picture window. When I think of soaking in a warm tub whilst watching waves crash into the cove below, it’s rather lovely. When I think of soaking in a warm tub whilst on view to every unsuspecting walker on the North Devon coastal path, it’s less appealing! I checked from the garden, and the window is unfrosted, plain glass, giving anyone looking in a good view of the bathroom. A paradise for an exhibitionist.

The cottage garden joins the footpath, and is a sheltered spot with flower beds and a palm tree. It has an outside tap for washing dirty paws, but I forgot to bring a trowel for clearing up poop (when you keep animals, you can never completely avoid the poop aspect).

We took Kia for a walk along the cliffs. She saw the sea and set off along the footpath, straining on the lead. When we came to some steps, she suggested very strongly that we might like to visit the beach. But the steps had been washed away by a storm, and only the top and bottom steps remained, clinging onto the cliff in a futile attempt to look useful.

There was no way to explain this to a persistent German Shepherd, so we dragged her back to the cottage.

Next stop was a trip to Tesco Superstores to stock up on supplies. The mist had crept up from the sea, and we drove through lanes towards the shop with Husband muttering about it being an unlikely place for a superstore, and was I directing him to a small garage Tescos? We turned into the carpark of a decent sized shop, grabbed a trolley, and started to collect things from the shopping list. I had hoped to live on Charlie Bigham ready-meals for a week, but there weren’t many, and we had to buy a few raw ingredients that I could shove into the oven without too much effort. Husband appeared at regular intervals with a selection of implements to use in place of a trowel for poop clearing. I didn’t think a wooden spatula or a plastic ice-scraper would work, despite their bargain prices.

Next challenge was trying to use the oven, which had unhelpfully been set to ‘automatic’ by the previous people, which meant that it was impossible to use until I had managed to turn it back to a manual setting (random pressing of pairs of buttons usually cures it—I have lots of experience in annoying church kitchens). We ate sausage beans and chips, which filled us up even if it wasn’t very healthy, and a Charlie Bigham’s sticky toffee sponge with custard.

Went to bed full and happy.

Saturday

Tried (in vain) to learn words in various declensions for my Greek lesson. I am writing them in different colours and making up silly sayings (“All the plural datives in the third declension like to sin —σιν”)—but to be honest, very little is staying in my brain.

Decided to take the dog on the beach for the afternoon and drove to Woolacombe Beach. Kia was ecstatic, and even forgot to snarl at all the other dogs in the carpark (anyone who owns a German Shepherd will understand this—the breed is not good with other dogs).

The carpark had lots of signs, saying that due to Covid there was distancing in place, and contactless paying, and certain restrictions. There was a queue waiting to go in (it was the final Saturday of half-term week). At the gate was a man, collecting money through the window of every car—sometimes having to lean across the car to reach the driver—in a very un-Covid-safe manner. I fumbled in my pocket for my crumpled mask (thank you Aunty Margaret) and put on gloves ready to receive the token given in return for the £3 fee. I don’t think it was possible to pay by card/phone. Cars were parked in every space, so I think the person putting up the signs had forgotten to explain them to the man at the gate (I did wonder if, in fact, he was simply a random man collecting £3 from every car and nothing to do with the carpark, but he did give everyone a token that lifted the barrier, so I am assuming he was legit!)

The tide was out, and there was a long expanse of wet sand and huge waves crashing onto the beach. We set off towards the water, the dog dancing next to us. We reached the rocks and Husband and son went closer to explore. I foolishly followed them, noticed a wave washing in, and ran back to the sand—but not in time. The sea lapped around me, filling my wellies and soaking my trousers while a family on the sand laughed. I turned to watch Husband wading through the water, even deeper than me, and son clambered onto the rocks. The dog looked bemused, surprised we were paddling with her. Emptied boots, tried to ignore soggy socks.

Happy afternoon striding through the wind, watching the surfers tackle the waves. Kia kept up for about 25 minutes, but then I noticed she was dragging one of her back legs—which is a sign she’s getting tired, so we turned round. I don’t mind her being old when I can see that she’s still happy and excited by things.

Rinsed out the wellies and filled the washing machine with soggy clothes, then sat down to write this before I put a ready-meal curry in the oven. Another happy day.

I hope you have some fun too this week—and manage to keep your feet dry.

Thanks for reading. Take care.

Love, Anne x

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Punting in Cambridge

Posted by anneethompson

We went to visit Emm’s new house in Cambridge, and spent the afternoon on the River Cam in a punt. I like Cambridge, it’s one of the few cities I think I could live in—perhaps because it has cows. I’m not sure why it has cows, I assume it’s a hangover from old laws about grazing rights on common land, but they are there, in the centre of the city, wandering over footpaths and pooping on the grass as they mingle with students and tourists.

Emm suggested punting before we arrived, so I put a spare pair of trousers and knickers in my bag. I remember punting. When I was a teenager, we lived in Letchworth, and regularly went to Cambridge with our church youth group. We would hire a few punts (it was a big youth group) and set off. The person punting always fell in (sometimes they were pushed). We always had water fights with the other punts, so our boats were returned full of water and the owner refused to return the deposit.

There was one time when one of the car drivers was pushed into the river, and lost his glasses. I remember people diving under the murky water, searching the mud for the lost glasses, but they were never found. The driver was unable to drive home, so someone with a provisional licence had to drive his car for him. That must have been terrifying! Having taught my children to drive, I now realise how scary it would be to have someone else’s teenager drive my car for me.

Once, I remember there were foreign girls with us (my sister says they were from Norwich, which they may have been—I wasn’t very good at accents in those days) and they got completely soaked and were rather upset, so we took them to a launderette and told them to strip, then we tumble-dried their clothes while they sat huddled under someone’s coat. I have no idea what the other people in the launderette thought. In fact, as I reflect on these memories as an adult, I have no idea why the youth group leaders were so willing to take us punting every year—it must have been a nightmare for them!

Anyway, last weekend we arrived at the punt hire place, and I was fully prepared with dry clothes, just in case. They were well prepared, with people wiping the boats and poles with disinfectant between each hire, spaced queueing, no cash payments. Such a lot of fuss Covid has created, but business has adapted.

Emm decided that Jay would punt, even though he was the only person who had never previously been on a punt before. He listened attentively to the very brief instructions, and we set off with him muttering that the physics didn’t work, and the extremely narrow pole was not going to be sufficient. But it was, and he actually did very well.

Punting is a skill (which I don’t have). In case you have never visited Cambridge (put it on your list for when Covid ends) I will explain. A ‘punt’ is a very shallow boat, which seats about 8 people in a sort of lounging position—good for beautiful blonde girls who want to trail their fingers in the water while sipping champagne. The person punting stands on the back, on a slippery-looking platform, and pushes a long thin pole into the mud below, then pushes forwards, hence propelling the boat. If the pole is placed on the left, the punt turns left; when placed on the right, the punt turns right. It turns quite sharply, and we passed several boats that were basically just turning in circles on the river. Sometimes the pole gets stuck in the mud, and tugging it out unbalances the punter. It’s easy to fall in, and you really do not want to fall in to the Cam—it’s not the cleanest river in the world.

The exercise is made more exciting by the bridges across the river. Some of these are quite low, and require the punter (not sure if that’s the correct term) to push hard before crouching in the boat to avoid being decapitated by the bridge. When you are a mother and your son is punting, this makes the activity less relaxing than when you are a carefree teenager.

Emm and Aitch also took turns punting, and no one fell in, and no one was decapitated, which was a good result. We had bought some of those little cans of cocktails from Tesco, so we stopped next to a quiet bank, and drank cocktails, and watched the branches trailing in the river and the ducks swimming past, and it was all rather lovely. Then we made out way back, under the low bridges, past the Chinese tourists who were still turning in circles, and returned our punt to the people waiting to disinfect it ready for the next party.

I hope you have a fun day today.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Anne x

****

Dial Square FC Win the FA Cup

Posted by anneethompson

Dial Square FC Win the FA Cup

Woolwich Warren and a Rather Famous Football Team

The Woolwich Arsenal used to be called the Woolwich Warren, due to being built on a Tudor house which had a warren (as in, a place that rabbits were raised for food). It then became the place gunpowder was made, and is now a swanky place to live. I popped in there for a quick inspection, and decided it was a rather lovely place to be.

Photo: Kleon3
The tower of the Tudor mansion.

The original Tudor house was defined by a tall tower, which feels appropriate now the site has several high-rise buildings which are seen as you approach Woolwich. The owner of the original mansion was later Lord Mayor of London. There are now several very new, rather exclusive apartment blocks, with balconies and views across London, mingled with some ancient squares and old army buildings. It is one of those places that England does best—modern architecture muddled up with ancient history. I was interested to learn a little of the history, so after wandering through squares with bubbling fountains and past yuppy pubs and wine bars, I stopped to read a few of the signs.

After the mansion was demolished, the Woolwich Warren was built to make armaments. In 1695, an ammunition factory was set up, making gunpowder, shell cases, gun cartridges. One of the original pavilions still exists:

Photo: Barrabus1312
One of the original pavilions.

Photo: Kleon3
One of the guard houses at the entrance from the river.

By 1777, the warren covered 104 acres, conveniently placed next to the River Thames. In the 1700s, convicts were used to build a high wall (8ft high) around the boundary, and later (1814) they dug a canal along the eastern border. There were hexagonal guard rooms either side of the main entrance from the river. We walked past them, but there were no signs, so we had to guess what they were. They look a little like over-sized kiosks that sell newspapers (so I clearly guessed wrong.)

In 1886, the men working in the workshops around Dial Square formed a football team. They were called the Dial Square club, and their first game was against the Isle of Dogs club in December 1886. The club still exists today, is now known as Arsenal FC — even I have heard of that one!

By the time of the First World War, the warren had expanded, and now employed 80,000 people. I love thinking of the secret manufacture of cannons and gunpowder, all guarded by the military. Did the people living nearby have any idea how explosive the area was? After the war, most factories closed, and they produced steam engines for the railway instead.

The arsenal no longer produced gunpowder in the second world war, which is probably good as it was a target during the Blitz, and lots of buildings were destroyed. It was still involved in the manufacture of weapons, but mainly guns and bomb cases. After the war, the machines were modified to manufacture the knitting frames for silk stockings (bit of a change then!)

Gradually, the arsenal ceased to be an arsenal. The wall was dismantled, the buildings sold to the council—one was even used by the British Library to store books. (Note: I rather resent these books stores, as if you publish a book, you are required, by law, to send a copy to the library, so it can be placed into a store and never seen again. Rant over.)

Today, as you wander around the area, you can still see many of the historical buildings, and many have signs, explaining what they were. It’s a nice place to visit, you wander through squares, and walk next to the Thames, staring at the muddy banks looking for treasure (and finding washed-up shopping carts!) The other side of the main road, is the bustle of real life, with small shops and tiny markets and people from every corner of the world. Not a bad place to visit on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

Thanks for reading.

Counting Stars continues on Wednesday.

: New blocks of flats now mingle with the old buildings.

: Old archway, behind a modern wine bar, with housing in the background.

: Helpful signs explain the history of the area.

: Squares with canons (they left a few behind, but no traces of gunpowder so I guess they’re safe.

: Footpaths run along the river. Plenty of places to peer down at the mud, looking for treasure. (But only seeing mud, and rubbish, and some muddy birds.)

: A weird statue of men –definitely men–but no sign to explain the significance.

: The view from one of the balconies.

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Walking to Stanley Ghyll Waterfall

Posted by anneethompson

Family Walk in the Lake District

More sheep, bogs and views

lake district fells The weather was dry (not to be assumed in the Lake District) so we went for another walk. Bea and Gee (The Bee Gees) weren’t working today, so there more of us, which meant it took even longer than usual to leave the cottage.

We decided to drive back to fell we walked on the day before, and walk in the opposite direction, towards Stanley Ghyll waterfall. We parked on Austhwaite Brow, found a footpath, and set off across the empty space. All the sheep on this side of the road were white, and they looked like they’d been washed because we’re used to seeing grey sheep and black lambs. Everyone wore boots or wellies this time, so bogs were less of an issue.

As we approached the waterfall, there were lots of warning signs, and I wondered whether Anne-who-hates-heights would actually manage to see anything. Am not keen on walking along rock edges with sheer slopes and long drops.

We rounded a corner, and there was a tightrope, and a group of people practising. I’ve never seen a ‘real’ tightrope walker before, so we watched for a few minutes. This is a skill I could never, ever, learn. They were so co-ordinated, so perfectly balanced. Even when they fell, they pulled themselves back onto the rope and sat there, feet crossed in front, arms outstretched. Very impressive.

tightrope walking, stanley waterfall, lake district,

We followed a path down some steep rock steps, to the bottom of the waterfall. It wasn’t scary, as there was a rail for support in the most difficult places, and there were so many plants that if it was a sheer drop, you were never aware of it. The bottom of the steps was wonderful—like being dropped into a rainforest. It was very sheltered, and the spray from the waterfall made the air moist. The cliff edges were covered in rhododendrons, which must be beautiful when they’re in flower.

There were bridges over the river, but the walkway the other side had been destroyed by a rockfall, and was no longer safe. (I think this means that if you plan to walk to the fall from the town, the signs say the path is closed).

Spent the evening eating and playing games and packing. I took Kia for a last walk up the hill behind the cottage. I stood, looking over the valley, with The Old Man of Coniston looming behind me. There are sheep, and rivers, moss-covered rocks, ferns and trees standing like deformed old men as they struggle to grow against the wind—all so beautiful. I don’t want to go home.

I hope you have a good day. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

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Walking in The Lake District

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Seat How

Apparently Someone Counted All The Hills

We had a lazy morning. I took Kia to Coniston Water, which is about half an hour from the cottage. It’s very strange having an old dog—if you remember, until earlier this year she behaved as if she was still young, but then an operation for a twisted stomach added all her 13 years, and she can now only enjoy fairly short strolls. I miss walking with a dog when we go on long hikes, so it was lovely to walk through fields of sheep, under the gaze of mountains, to the lake.

This was our first properly warm day—I suspect the Lake District perpetually has autumn or winter temperatures. The walk was very typical, with lots of grey sheep, each one with a black lamb, and stone walls covered in moss with ferns growing next to rivers. It is such a pretty place. Kia collected sticks next to the river, and we watched a man trying to launch a canoe (and I was really glad we don’t own one, and Husband said how much he’d have liked to own a boat).

Each dollop of poop had a toadstool growing in it. It was a feature of the walk.
They are possibly Coprophilous fungi, which have spores that can survive being eaten by herbivores and then grow after being expelled.

After lunch we drove back to the fells we drove through yesterday on our way home from Wast Water. We parked next to the road, and walked towards one of the large rocks. I later read that it was Seat How, which is hill number 3710—apparently someone counted all the hills. It’s in Thornthwaite (good luck with pronouncing that after a glass of wine!) which is basically a big empty space with boggy patches and mounds of moss and sheep trails through the grass. Husband and Jay climbed the rock, of course, because they are blokes and it was there.

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I decided I didn’t fancy scrabbling up another hill, so walked round it. I walked over the grass, trying to avoid boggy patches, disturbing sheep who were sunbathing on the stones. Then, as I rounded Seat How, a valley stretched out in front of me, with a lovely view of Devoke Water, and if I squinted at the horizon, I could just about see the glint of the sea. I stood for a few minutes, soaking up the smell of heather, listening to the bleat of lambs (and the shouts from above Seat How—my family are not known for being quiet). A little patch of peace.

View of Devoke Water.

We met up again, and set off in the direction of the car (which we couldn’t see). Husband used his ‘Jack Reacher skills’ and strode off in one direction. I was pretty sure he was wrong, and marched off in a slightly different direction. Jay walked somewhere between us, muttering: “Story of my life, both parents completely certain they are right, striding off in different directions. . .” But then, he had left his wellies at home, and was hopping over the boggy bits, so we don’t need to listen to him!

We found the car (one of us was right) drove home and ate apple pie.

Dinner was fish and chips from ‘Our Plaice’ in Coniston. It was actually haddock, as they don’t sell plaice. Husband collected them, and talked about the experience all evening. I think the highlight of his trip was the woman who kept pausing in serving the extremely long line of customers so she could answer the phone to tell the caller they were not taking phone orders. Apparently they were exceptionally busy, probably due to people finally venturing on holiday but not wanting to risk eating in pubs/restaurants (especially if their experiences are similar to our ‘not-Covid-safe’ meal in last week’s blog).

We watched a film (Rock n Roller) on Netflix, while Jay dried his shoes on the aga (so much I am not writing here).

Another happy day at the lakes.
I hope your day has a little patch of peace too. Take care.
Love, Anne x

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A Wet Day in the Lake District

Posted by anneethompson

A Trip to Windermere

Went for a run (using term loosely) along footpath towards Coniston. We saw lots of sheep, including two in the road. Nice run.

Asked family to help create a shopping list of food we needed. Wrote down some of their suggestions. Drove to Windermere. This is the home of Lakeland, which is one of the few shops I actually enjoy (you know when you have reached a certain age, when the Lakeland catalogue is something you enjoy!) Decided it would be rude to visit Windermere and not pop into Lakeland.

We followed signs, and parked in the big car park outside. Queued to get inside, carefully socially distanced, while a lady with a clicker allowed us into the shop as people left. There was a man, standing in the window, making a phone call the entire time we queued outside. Husband said I should not approach him and suggest he could make his call outside, so that someone else could take his place in the shop.

After reading about other European countries, who seem to be handling Covid better than the UK, I decided that I would wear a face mask whenever inside a public space. This made the trip much less fun, as it is very hot and airless inside a mask, and my glasses were perpetually steamed up. When finally allowed inside the shop, I wandered around, in baking tin Heaven, trying to remember what things I actually needed. I bought a small saucepan for making cheese sauces, as the one I bought in 1988 has a dodgy handle. I bought a lot of other things, but I can justify the saucepan.

Walked to Booths, which seems to be the largest supermarket within an hour of the cottage. Queued to get in. I find it very difficult to social distance inside a supermarket—I am focussed on hot mask, steamed up glasses, shopping list, and trying to find the correct items. Not walking too close to the slow man staring dumbly at the sour cream seems low priority—but I tried.

Put shopping in the car, and realised a high percentage was alcohol and snacks—hope this doesn’t represent a normal week’s supplies for my family.

Lunch in cottage again. It is pouring with rain. Some of the family went to The Ship Inn in Coniston, and sent cheery photos of pints of beer. Late afternoon, we walked to the pub with Kia. There was another pretty footpath, through fields of sheep, under dripping trees, alongside streams. When we arrived at the pub, the drinkers were happily still drinking, so we left them there.

I made veggie chilli for dinner.

Went for an evening walk, and saw a beheaded rabbit and escaped sheep and a noisy cow. The day has been lazy, and wet, but I think on a holiday in the Lake District you have to expect at least a couple of wet days. It’s still pretty.

Hope you have a nice day, whatever the weather. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

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Trip to the Lake District 2020

Posted by anneethompson

Little Arrow, Near Coniston

Family Holiday: Monday

Went to sleep last night listening to the rain. It rains a lot here, and it’s cold. We knew this before we came, so packed all our autumn clothes. We are all now looking forward to Christmas (Summer 2020 was in April, so no complaints).

I wrote, while the family gradually emerged from their rooms, made toast, or porridge with cinnamon and honey, or sipped coffee until they looked human again. Husband took Kia for a walk.

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We had sandwiches and leftovers for lunch. It was very noisy. Husband tried to make a plan, but Emm formed a union in protest. Nothing was decided.

We walked to Coniston Water (big lake). This holiday feels weird because every long walk, we leave Kia at home. Strange to go on a long walk without a dog, but she’s too old to cope with more than an hour of exercise. We passed several ramblers, some had wet Labradors (you can’t keep a Labrador out of a lake). We in turn we were passed (surprisingly) by several older men who were running round the lake. They had strong legs and intense faces. I assume running round the lakes must be a thing.

We strolled along the shore line, avoiding knotty roots of trees clinging to the hillside, looking at moss-covered rocks, large ferns, stepping over streams bubbling down the bank towards the lake. It was wonderfully green. It was improved considerably by people having loud sword fights with fallen logs and daring each other to climb onto the branches that overhung the water, and generally being noisy.

Not the fence you were possibly hoping for. . .

We abandoned Bea and Gee at a little jetty (she hurt her knee). Emm, Aitch and Jay were then distracted by a derelict house at the top of a hill (which I’m pretty sure was just a lump of granite but they scrambled up to investigate) so we abandoned them too. Volume of walk decreased.

We returned to the cottage via a campsite, which wasn’t quite as pretty as fields of sheep, but was faster. Arrived back in time to put gammon joint into oven. Investigated potatoes for baking, and realised Tesco had delivered huge potatoes, the size of a boot. The oven was too small for boot-sized potatoes, so put them into aga to see what would happen. Three hours later, they were perfect.

We walked into Torver with Kia to see what the pub was like (family keen to eat there in future, but I’m sure that was not a reflection on my cooking skills). The pub said it was open, and there was a sign on the door with instructions about how they were coping with the Covid risk. It all looked very well organised, and there was a large garden, and Portaloos to allow social distancing. But it was shut, which rather spoiled the plan.

Returned to cottage and played ‘the saucepan game.’ (Everyone writes sixteen names on small pieces of paper and puts them in a saucepan. A timer is set for 30 seconds, and people take turns pulling out a name, and describing it to their team without saying the actual name.) It was fun, and there was lots of laughing, and I’m pretty sure Jay and Emm are psychic. There was also lots of opportunity to discuss the rules, which is something my family can do at length.

Went to bed. Slept well.

Thank you for reading. Take care.

Love, Anne x

Have you enjoyed reading this? You can find more of our family escapades in The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary by Anne E. Thompson. Available from an Amazon near you (you can read it for free if you have a kindle).

Now is an excellent time to read my travel book. Happy adventures from around the world.
Available from Amazon.

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Thank you for reading.
Why not sign up to follow my blog?
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Anne E Thompson

Author

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