Christmas Knitting

This is scarf number 1 - Afetos.  I've chosen a sock yarn with a light tweedy speckle, and it is a pattern I have knitted before.  Quite a high wool content to this yarn.  The lace pattern is not complex but needs care because it is not symmetrical.  

So I was pleased to se this one finished: it had turned out well, I thought.  Then I gave it a bath preparatory to blocking.  Oh dear - the sheepy quality of the wool now made its presence felt.  In fact, it stank.  I put it out on the line to air and then repeated the wash with a rinse using part vinegar.  Now it smelt of sheep and vinegar.  A third wash and a rinse with bicarbonate of soda.  The smell was now in abeyance, but I would not trust it in a rain shower.  

What to do?  This is scarf number 2.  It is a set of Regia Ombre 100% Merino, knitted using the shape of Afetos without the lace panels.  I made the transitions less stark by putting in some stripes at the changeovers.  This feels lovely and looks quite sophisticated.

But, crucially, it has no smell.

 

Leiston Abbey

 

Who lives in a house like this?  The next town to Aldeburgh, going North, is Leiston, once a major centre for railway engineering. Just outside Leiston are the ruins of Leiston Abbey, and very spectacular they are, too.  

Now managed by a combination of English Heritage and a young persons' music charity who run courses here, the abbey contains some complete structures.  This one is a patchwork of brick, flintwork, beach pebble and rendering.

The abbey itself was clearly a vast structure.

The Lady Chapel has been made weatherproof and may well be used for services, concerts, weddings...

Note the mix of brick, flintwork and timber cladding.

The remains of a Tudor gatehouse.

We left the Abbey and took a path through woodland leading out to the sea, just south of Minsmere, where we sat and had lunch.  Suddenly a black head appeared swimming parallel to the beach, submerging for a stretch and then reappearing. It was a grey seal.

Thorpeness

 Just a few miles to the North of Aldeburgh is the seaside village of Thorpeness.  This was developed in the early twentieth century and features some of the most eccentric houses you will ever see.

The house in the clouds... (a converted water tower)

A mock Tudor gatehouse

And another converted water tower, this last one on the market at present for £850,000.

We started our walk from the village, passed the windmill

And followed a path around the golf-course and across a turnip field.

There the path came to a full stop and we found ourselves walking all round the edge of the next turnip field as workers knelt to their task of trimming turnips and crating them up for sale.

Eventually we realised that we were much further North than we had thought and followed the line of pylons leading out to the coast at Sizewell.  Here we joined the bridle path and sat down for lunch.

Another couple of miles brought us back into Thorpeness and a much-needed cup of tea.

Long time. no see....

 

To Aldeburgh, for a short autumnal break before winter sets in. We rented the same Cosy Cabin we used in March: convenient for shops and with a dedicated car parking space.  The forecast was for rain and wind most days, but for once the weather gods were smiling on us.

On our way there we called at Sutton Hoo, where the  high winds were giving rise to safety warnings on the woodland walks. The new displays feature the women involved in the story: Raedwald's nameless queen, an older wise woman and a slave girl.  Very Woke, the National Trust these days.

On our first day we made the pilgrimage to Minsmere where the keen bird-watchers had a field day.  Here, a roost of cormorants on the scrape.

The view across to Iken on our first walk.  This is prime pig-rearing territory, so much of the walk lay across fields fenced off for breeding sows.

Although the mother pigs stay by their arks, the piglets are free to roam under the wire.

At last we reached Iken church - note the thatched mid-section.

Inside, remains of a Saxon cross.

And, outside on the mudflats, an avocet foraging.

Light showers gave us a splendid view of the church contained within a rainbow.  Magical.

Our last day in Cumbria and the weather was ideal for walking.  This year more than ever the most popular places are likely to be overcrowded so we chose a secluded valley for our walk.

We took the track up into the Wythop valley which joins the path around Sale Fell, leading to the ruins of old Wythop church.  Once the farmsteads around the valley must have provided the congregation for this remote spot. Skiddaw was in cloud as we began our walk.

This was the view from our lunch spot near an ancient quarry.  The cloud has cleared.

And this a farmhouse once in a state of dereliction.  Someone has taken it on and made it weather-proof.

We had a really enjoyable walk, down-hill all the way on the final leg.

We had thought to pick up fish and chips from the harbour for our final evening picnic.  Twenty minutes in a queue for the food to be cooked to order gave enough time for a bank of grey cloud to move in.  This is a maritime climate.  We scooted up the coast and found the nearest parking place.  Just enough time to enjoy the picnic super before the weather closed in completely.  

 

After our strenuous walk yesterday, we took a rest day, first doing a little shopping for shoes in Cockermouth and then having our picnic lunch on the shore of Bassenthwaite.

On the other side of the lake is the country house, Mirehouse, home of the Spedding family and much visited by the lake poets and Tennyson in their day.

We walked down to the little church of St Bega, on a promontory near the lake.  This is a very ancient foundation and contains this incised grave slab, which is rather wonderful.

Mirehouse in its setting.

And once again we finished the day with an evening meal, enjoying the view.

 

On Monday, to Loweswater.  Everywhere rose bay willowherb and foxgloves forming a lovely counterpoint to stone walls.

Through the woodlands along the side of the lake.

An out at the end climbing towards the High Nook Tarn path

We chose to walk along behind a wall to reach the gate at the top of the wood.  Bracken was waist-high here and sopping wet  - as, soon, were we.  At the top of the wood, I took off my trousers and wrung them out before proceeding.  They had dried by the time we reached the tea-room.

We were away for ten days in total.  I had to buy in extra knitting supplies while away just to tide me over. Four pairs of adult mitts and three of children's.

 

On Saturday we took a trip over the fells to Caldbeck, a little village to the back of Skiddaw - miles from anywhere.  We enjoyed lunch at the Watermill Cafe and strolled back to the car along the banks of the river, looking out for the dipper, which we were pleased to see doing its thing mid-stream.  

Caldbeck is full of pretty stone-built cottages and a sense of prosperity.  There is a large church with the grave of John Peel, the huntsman, and several thriving eateries.  It could hardly be more different in tone to Maryport, the post-industrial coastal town where we have our cottage.

However, it was not always so.  The river - Cold Beck - was once the source of power for a range of industries in the village - corn mills, a woollen mill, a paper mill, brewing and a bobbin mill. The fells around Caldbeck were a rich source of lead, silver, copper, tungsten and barytes - mining began in the 13th Century, reached its height in the 17th but did not end until the 1980s.

Just a short walk from the village centre with its tea-room, is The Howk, a gorge with several impressive ruined buildings, once a bobbin mill.  Sixty men and boys were employed here, turning coppiced timber into bobbins for use in the Manchester cotton industry. It once had the largest water-wheel in England - three foot wide and forty-two foot in diameter.

  It is a damp, shady gorge on a bright day.  Among the workers, respiratory diseases from inhaling wood-dust would have been common; accidental fires as sparks caught the wood-shavings would also have cost lives.  Hardly a rural idyll.

In the village, or near it, this substantial barn, with a nineteenth century date.

And in the evening, back to our chosen picnic spot on the Solway.

 

On Friday, to Windermere, where we were booked in for lunch at The Gaddum, a birthday treat, courtesy of my elder sister and her family.  This is the restored Arts and Crafts interior of the restaurant. 

The curious name stems from the name of the family who built the house originally, a silk manufacturer from Manchester.  His wife made this her permanent residence, while he used the railway from Windermere to commute, presumably on a weekly basis.

This is duck breast with a side of black cherries and baby beetroot.

A spectacular dessert of a Sunflower cake with a little jug of cherry sauce to pour into the spiral.  This is food for those who like to toy with it.

And this is Peach Melba with the peach cut into batons while the "peach" on the plate is actually a parfait. It was all as delicious as it looks.

On to Holehird gardens, just a mile or so along the lake and up the hill.

A view of the Langdales from Holehird.

Altogether, a grand day out - a lovely contrast to our usual picnic mid-walk.