Next, by train to this northern city, Carlisle, its streets studded with Georgian treasures like this one.
|Georgian street in Carlisle.|
To Wigton, birthplace of Melvyn Bragg, the very essence of a run-down and depressed small town, although this memorial looks bright enough. Sample"crack" in the charity shop I visited:
"How come he had a 36 inch flat-screen telly when he was burgled and he's nivver had a job in his life?"
"Mebbe somebody was just pinching it back."
Highly edifying, but if one was planning a slice-of-life drama set in the north...
To Caldbeck, where John Peel has his grave, and where the Wool Clip, and the cafe above it at the Priest's Mill, is a place of pilgrimage:
Click the picture to read the date over the door on this cottage.
It was wet and windy while I was in Cumbria, but weather like that creates the most dramatic lighting effects. Here, the play of light over the fells as seen from the A596.
Finally, knitting. I travelled up by train and entered the usual conversation with a lady of a similar age to me, as I showed her my progress on the Aeolian shawl in the lovely Cascade silk. Why is it that people imagine you could sell hand-knitted items at a profit, or that you would want to?
This last, a cushion made from a failed attempt at a Starmore sweater, which was impossibly bulky. The buttons are Icelandic reindeer horn, gifted to me by my sister.