Cartmel

And so to Cartmel.  South of the Lake District, between the Furness peninsula and the M6, is the Cartmel peninsula.  This was at once very familiar and totally unknown to me, because for about twenty years my elder sister and her family farmed there.  So I would call in for tea as I drove North to stay with my parents in West Cumbria, but never spent any time exploring the immediate area.  This seems incomprehensible now, but it is so.  After all, I would have driven three hundred miles from Essex by that point, so sightseeing was not on my mind.

Now, though, we took a little holiday cottage in order to explore the southern lakes.  In fact, we spent the whole week in the peninsula itself.

Cartmel has an absolutely glorious priory dating from 1289.  The original founder fortuitously inserted a clause about it being really a parish church, so it was spared the ruination it might have had in the sixteenth century.  The first view of the great window certainly induces awe. 

Around the priory the village has the full complement of teashops, excellent restaurants and a shop specialising in the sticky toffee pudding.  What more can one ask?

We took walks out along the coast, where stretches of salt-marsh lead to Morecambe Bay.  Over Humphrey Head we realised that we were walking on limestone pavement, and that the flora was that special kind only seen on this terrain.

As we sat eating lunch my husband spotted egrets and a heron.  We saw peregrines feeding.

Passing through Flookburgh, we stopped to buy shrimp and flooks (a flat fish, like plaice) from the home of a fishing family who take their tractor out into the bay and cast their nets.  Everywhere there was a sense of a more ancient way of life still being lived. 

Another day we visited Holker Hall, a charming property still lived in by the Cavendish family.  Very interesting to see somewhere presented without the somewhat uniform manner of the National Trust, much as we love that organisation.  Holker burned down in the late Victorian period and was rebuilt within four years.  Everywhere there is evidence of the woodworking skills of the Simpsons of Kendal.

The gardens are magical, with many eye-catching features such as this fountain.

Another perfect day started with a trip on a steam railway.

From there we walked to Stott Park Bobbin Mill where we learned about the once thriving industry producing cotton spools for the textile indusry, using locally coppiced wood and water power.  It was fascinating to see the original techniques demonstrated, and to see how those wooden cotton reels were turned.

  From there we took a hike up Gummer's How, at the end of Windermere, where the views and the ascent are breath-taking.  Very evident here are the autumn colours of the bracken.

We were sorry to leave.




 

Time Out...

For some time now we have been planning to be in the North for September this year.  We certainly didn't want to be at a loose end here as the schools went back and term started.  So, although it felt as though we had just got back, we headed to Cumbria again.

In our fantasies we are the sort of rugged individuals who can set out on a long-distance footpath, carrying only minimal luggage, and taking pot-luck as to where we sleep the night.  The reality is somewhat different.  There is a path running the length of Hadrian's Wall: this seemed like as good a place as any to begin with.  And we needed a section where the actual wall is still in evidence.  We know that between five and ten miles is our limit for the day, and we needed public transport links to get us to there and back again.

So we hopped on the little train up to Carlisle and changed to the one that runs across the country to Hexham.  Hexham Abbey is very atmospheric, with Roman remains and Celtic crosses.

We were very taken with this coffer, right by the stairs the monks would have used to access the church by night.

In Hexham is a wonderful bookshop called Cogito, where I picked up a leaflet for Persephone Books, a publishing house reissuing writing from between the wars, mainly by women.  Their website is an aesthetic delight, as their shop must be.

Roman memorial in Hexham Abbey

Next day we caught the bus up to Chesters Roman fort as our starting point.  Soon we passed this very impressive stable block, which is looking for a new owner, for non-residential use only.  Imagine the possibilities.

It did not take long for the weather to change from high cloud to the kind of strong wind and penetrating drizzle which must have made the Wall a favourite posting for the legions.   At Brocolita, there was  a temple to Mithraus with pierced stones through which a light would have shone for added drama.  There was also a coffee vendor doing a brisk trade in hot chocolate and warning people that the wind could lift off the froth like a custard pie.

Section of Hadrian's Wall

We squelched onwards into the wind.  Ahead the ground rose over Sewingshields crags - and the wall rose with it.  This was a very spectacular section.

Celtic cross in Hexham Abbey

Eventually we reached Housesteads where we were to pick up the bus back to the train. It had taken us about six hours to walk that short stretch, although  walking into the wind made it seem much longer.  We were very glad not to have to set out again the next day.  So much for long-distance footpaths.

 

Catching up...

Thank you for all your kind wishes on my retirement.  The truth is that we would have been on holiday at this point in any year, so the reality of being without a job now has not yet sunk in.

We decided to spend a week in the little valley of Troutbeck, which leads out of Windermere towards Kirkstone Pass.  This is classic Lakeland, allowing us to walk from the door on to serious hills.  Our rented cottage was called Granary Cottage, and that is what it was: the end of a building with outside steps leading to the first floor living area and kitchen.  All Lakeland farms would have had similar structures.  Below was the bedroom and shower room, a less happy arrangement, as this may have been a root cellar or open cart store before conversion.  Next door was this rather wonderful spinning gallery.  Troutbeck is full of such survivals.

A view of Troutbeck strung out along its valley, and one of the fourteen wells serving different settlements.

From this base we walked up to Ill Bell, along a long high ridge.  Although it was a cloudy day, the views stretched out to Blackpool Tower to the south and Great Gable and Scafell to the north-west.

Just below us lay the valley of Kentmere, where the reunion of my Great-grandfather's family took place some years ago.   We strode down the valley, coming across a shepherd and his lad who had been gathering sheep from the fells for six hours that day, with another long day in prospect on the opposite valley side.  The huge straggling flock had been brought down for the clipping.

Another day took us out across Windermere to Wray Castle, now awaiting development, but as what?
We walked down the lake shore, picking up a steamer at Bowness to come back up the lake.

After our week away, we returned to our own cottage on the Solway coast which was enjoying good weather for once.  My husband wore his pedometer on our walks and, encouraged or misled by the "Calories used" section, we went out for tea at the Lodore Falls Hotel.

This is tea for one person - but we managed to clear the plate!

Out to grass...

This week sees the end of my teaching career, after thirty-eight years.  I marked my last set of essays, taught my last class - hard to believe, but true.

Among other lovely things, my colleagues gave me this framed collage of book-covers: some of the many texts I have taught through these years.  No "Of Mice and Men", which I must have taught at least twenty times.  At the bottom, they have written best wishes to me in my retirement, but these are a little personal to share.  I was very touched.

All these books - and it has certainly been one of the joys of my job to be able to share these with groups.  But it is the young people who stay with you - those with natural charm and those without, many with terribly disordered lives. Their stories are unforgettable.


Meanwhile, on the knitting front, I have completed this cowl, in Manos del Uruguay Silk Blend.  In fact, I have knitted it twice as the first time I twisted the stiches .  I know that some cowls are made that way, but I wasn't convinced, so I took it out and checked more carefully the second time.  It certainly feels lovely and is a glorious blend of colours.

Family Values

It's been a strange couple of weeks.  First, the annual get-together of my husband's mother's family, and then an unexpected gathering of my own family for the funeral of my brother's estranged wife, suddenly no longer with us, and no older than I am myself.

My husband's mother was a patient needlewoman.  With two sons and no daughters, she spent time on household repairs of a kind summed up by the phrase "Make do and mend," before that became a trendy lifestyle choice. 

In her later years, she had pieced this quilt top which was passed to her niece on her demise.  Her niece is an avid hand-quilter who undertook to quilt the whole thing and add a border, also finely quilted.  I have admired the staggering workmanship of her other quilts.  Now this one has found its way back to us.  Visually, it is very dramatic.  I don't think I'd have had the persistence to complete either the piecing or the quilting.

The other day I bought this watercolour from the local boot-fair.  Something about the colours and the waves crashing up on to a headland reminds me of the farm house at Mawbray, just north of Allonby on the Cumbrian coast.  Apparently, they know it is a bad storm when the sea-water puts out the open fire on the hearth - coming down the chimney.

Mat

I have completed the mat I was making.  I made up the design and feel that it raises as many questions as it answers.  The texture is convincingly carpet-like -it's a broken rib, ie one row k1p1, next row plain purl.  However, joining in the stripes leaves a weaker edging, not totally resolved by crocheting along as a binding.  The fringe makes it look more like a mat than a jumper that has ended up on the floor.  I think the idea has possibilities, if I can resolve how to join in new colours.

This last weekend to the Cotswolds to visit family.  Looks like a glorious day, doesn't it?

Yet already, here, the clouds are gathering.  So hard to know what to wear.  Sandals were the wrong thing, it turned out, as I crossed a street rapidly turning into a stream.

Some things in the garden are thriving: my favourite flowers.  I just love the range of colours on their faces, and the rich textures on the larger ones.

Suffolk

Yesterday, to the little town of Lavenhan, just north of Sudbury, to visit the Knitcafe which has opened there.  This is the Guildhall in the town square.

Lavenham seems to specialise in crooked houses, where the timber frame has shifted over the centuries, to a sometimes alarming extent.

Imagine living in this house where the angle of the wall is far from 90 degrees.  What kind of furniture would you need?

Pargetting, or decorative plasterwork is also much in evidence.  the whole place is quaint beyond words.

And everywhere the historic presence of wool - this is the Wool House.

My current knitting, likely to be the death of me.  This is a small rug, using Aran yarn knit doubled and a broken rib pattern.  It is certainly rug-like in texture, but quite heavy going to knit.  I'm over half-way now, so it's also been quite quick.

Deepest Essex..

 We don't actually watch "Come Dine With Me", but we did happen to catch a moment where one of the contestants, giving herself airs, said that she always described where she lived as "Suffolk borders", whereas it was, in fact, Essex.

Walking, as we do every Friday, in the Essex countyside you wonder why she felt so conflicted.  This is the old railway station at Rayne, now turned into a little cafe on the Flitch Way.  We began our walk here.

A perfectly level gravel path stretched before us, crossed at intervals by these splendid arches - this one crumbling away.

 All along the route, paths led enticingly across open fields.  Mature trees provided a constant canopy where we saw many squirrels.

 Finally we arrived at Little Dunmow, where we had parked the first car.  North Essex is full of houses like this one.  The second picture is of the "Flitch of Bacon" pub, where we ate lunch.