Travel Journal of OldEric 2003
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The Travel Journal of OldEric April to July 2003 in the UK taken from précis travel notes and wrote up during 2004.....
Saturday, June 28, 2003
Raglan Castle, Wales
Day 65. Sunday 29 June 2003. Raglan Castle.
Both Pat and I had expressed a desire on various occasions to visit Raglan Castle once more and this Sunday morning Ian arranged to run us up to the Castle. During our last visit to the Castle in 2000 the dull day had turned to drizzle and then light rain so we did not see too much of the Castle.
Pat also wanted to buy more of the large pewter Celtic crosses at the Castle shop which she had purchased last visit and much admired on our return home by the ladies of our church. But alas, there were none on sale now. Apparently the remote shop had been hit by a spate of robberies and sale items taken especially the more expensive items stolen. The shop staff suggested that only Tinten Abbey may stock them now. Ian said we would make a detour on our return to Cricklade.
We had picked a lovely sunny day for our visit and we leisurely picked our way round all the Castle's nooks and crannies from the massive kitchens to the top of the tower and read all the descriptive notices. We again found the Castle a place fascination, although now in ruins it was easy to imagine how it would have looked in its heyday.
We returned back to Usk and Ian had orders to return us to Doreen's home to a lovely Sunday roast lunch. I love a roast with all the trimmings and Pat does too. What a nice surprise. Vicky and Doreen had been so busy during our outing to Raglan Castle. After lunch we had a leisurely afternoon with Doreen then Ian took me for a walk along the banks of the Usk river and back.
Soon it was time to leave for Cricklade. As we left Doreen took us into her front room and showed us a photo on the wall of Stephen in cap and gown at his graduation from University. A younger edition of Stephen whom I met on our 2000 visit to the UK. During our journey back to Cricklade it reminded me of a story as told by his brother, Peter Shillito during their boyhood. I will relate it at the end of this entry.
On our journey back to Cricklade we did detour to Tinten Abbey to find the Celtic pewter crosses were not stocked. However Pat did find a smaller edition in silver which she liked and purchased for herself and now wears regularly. As we drove away up the hill from the Abbey I thought I would like a photo of Tinten Abbey to take home. Ian stopped the car, jumped out with the digital camera and moving up and down the road at a run, took a number of shots from differing angles. Looking now at them back in NZ I still can't decide which one to keep. So I have kept them all. I'm glad Ian decided to take them, he is a much better photographer than I.
We had had a very pleasant weekend which will stay in my memory for a long while.
Peter's Story
Peter and Stephan grew up in a location close to my boyhood home on Lake Ullswater in the 1940s. Although close as the crow flies we had Barton Fell between us and we never met. Stephan and Peter had horses as boys and competed in the local gymkhanas in the district. Periodically they would cross Barton Fell to go to Ullswater gymkhana held at Howtown near our home. Peter mentioned various Ullswater side names which I knew well particularly, Lady Lowther and Mrs Baldrey. Lady Lowther, where my brother John and I spent many happy hours had a daughter Anne who also used to compete in the gymkhanas and she had a large bay horse that Stephan and Peter much admired.
Mrs. Baldrey living near Howtown I remembered well and so it appears did Peter. Mrs Baldrey we both remembered was an officious bad-tempered woman with a loud booming voice which carry long distances. Most people gave her a wide berth not wanting to be on the end of her sharp tongue. Stephan and Peter had periodically been the recipients of one of her tirades and so had I on more than one occasion.
Peter told me that after one gymkhana at Howtown they were riding home and cut across one corner of Mrs. Baldry's land to reach the fell path. Suddenly as they reached the fell route the well known voice of Mrs. Baldry boomed across the paddocks "you boys, come here at once!". Peter said it was the only time he remembered hearing his brother swear. Steven said "it's that bloody woman again, keep riding and don't look back". Mrs Baldry's voice faded into the distance as they rode and Peter said to me that all the while Steven's jaw was tightly clenched having been shouted at one too often "by that woman".
Peter talked awhile about those far off days of himself and Steven and I got the distinct impression that he much admired his elder brother.
Tinten Abbey
Friday, June 27, 2003
The New Court Hotel in Maryport St. Usk.
The 5 cottages in yellow were purchased by the Hotel for additional accommodation and extra dining facilities.
Day 64. Saturday 28 June 2003. Garden Show.
Up early this morning and as I waited for Pat to rise and go down for breakfast I had a stroll up Blackbarn Lane, just a short walk to the end and though an opening into a paddock below the local school rugby pitch. I stood in the early sun for a while and looked over the fence to the stream meandering by and listening to the buzz of the bees and insects busy feeding off the wild flowers. There was not a sound human or traffic to be heard here, everything was at peace.
Returning, Pat was up and about preparing to go to breakfast so I made my way on foot down to Maryport Street in the warm sunshine. We had a lovely full Welsh breakfast with plenty of everything and I travelled back to our accommodation in the car with Pat.
After our return from breakfast and back in Blackbarn Lane Ian came to seek us out. We had been given tickets to visit the show gardens and to accompany Doreen. Doreen's recent leg problem was still troublesome and she was using a stick so we visited local gardens only of which there was quite a number. It was absolutely amazing how every garden could be so different and even more amazing how an interesting garden could be made from the smallest of plots with a little imagination. I enjoyed immensely our morning garden walk.
Later Vicky turned up full of vim and we went up to a large hillside farm garden near the castle in the late afternoon by shuttle. The garden organisers had arranged a shuttle service around town to the outlying gardens to which we availed ourselves. Nothing was flat up here but the house. The gardens were lovely and well laid out from the vegetable garden and glasshouse full of tomatoes to the old mature orchard, lawns and herbaceous borders. Even a small, fast running stream through the gardens disappearing under the lawn for a way and resurfacing in the lower reaches of the herbaceous border. There was work aplenty here to keep this garden in order.
The clock was ticking and well past 4 o' clock, it was time to go. A shuttle was just leaving so we sat in the shade and waited. And waited, it was obvious the shuttle was not coming back. Oh, what a long walk down hill and back down the rough lane in the blazing late afternoon sun. Pat, a non-walking person was horrified at the prospect being unsteady on rough ground at the best of times. Ian came to the rescue and with his long, long legs took off down the hill to bring the car up for us. We settled back in the shade to wait; it would take him some time we thought.
But he had left a moment too soon, the lady of the house had noticed our predicament and offered to run us down in her large Mercedes station waggon (estate car). We found Ian on the way down and our driver stopped and we thanked her profusely for our lift and we returned to Blackbarn Lane accompanied by Ian and Vicky, stopping off at the Blackbarn Inn for a coffee and sat in the shade for a while. Ian and Vicky asked us if we would like to go out to dinner this evening but we had to decline, we were tuckered out, over-heated and not in the least hungry with the heat of the day. All we wanted to do was rest.
As the evening cooled we decided to go to the Inn just situated a few paces at the Blackbarn Lane entrance for a cooling ale and then we started to feel hungry so the landlord made us a bowl of chips.
After another beer we headed back to our accommodation and we were in bed fast asleep in a trice.
Thursday, June 26, 2003
Day 63. Friday 27 June 2003. Usk Visit.
This coming weekend would be the last one we would spend in England before we returning to New Zealand next week.The weekend coincided with the Usk Garden Show so what better weekend to vist Usk.
We travelled down to Usk with Ian, Vicky would meet us tomorrow morning; today she was still in the midst of her organised school trip. Arriving in Usk we popped in to say hello to Doreen in Maryport Street.
Our accomodation was in Maryport Street also at the pub a few doors down from Doreen where they had bought up the row of terraced cottages adjoining the pub and turned them into accomodation and dining. The problem was our accomodation had been double booked and hence "no room at the Inn" for us.
We were asked if we minded staying in another part of town which was the landlord's newly purchased house and although furnished they had not moved in yet. We agreed sight unseen so Ian ran us round to Blackbarn Lane off the beginning of the Chepstowe road and we found we had the 3 bedroomed house to ourselves.
The house was warm, the water was hot and the bed was comfortable and the location was quiet. We enjoyed our 3 night's stay. In the mornings I walked down to the dining room in Maryport Street for breakfast but Pat with her troublesome foot drove down. Each early morning it warm and sunny and I enjoyed the stroll, cutting though the church grounds where Vicky and Ian were married.
That evening we slept well.
Sunday, June 22, 2003
Day 59-62. Monday to Thursday. 23-26 June 2003. Lazy Days.
Well we had to take some time off, a lay day was not enough. If Pat was feeling the strain, I was feeling it more so. I was completely worn out. Before our holiday we were busy at home preparing everything and now we had had 3 months on the go most of the time, my 70 year old body was now feeling the strain. We just stayed in the vicinity of Cricklade.
Today Vicky, organising her school trip left for Devon and we would not see her again until Friday when we were due to go to Usk for the weekend.
On Tuesday after a "do nothing" Monday we decided to venture out so we took a trip up to Cirencester. The trouble was we could not find the town centre. When going by bus or with Ian or Vicky it seemed so simple. We seemed to get into town and following the traffic we seemed to end up where we started from on the outskirts of Cirencester. After doing this twice we realised we must be on a one way system so we tried carefully to watch for "Town Centre" signs but we just managed to do the same again, there were no signs. Frustrated we headed back in the direction of Cricklade calling at the supermarket on the way and having a cup of coffee.
So we just stayed in Cricklade.
By Friday I think we had had a good rest with fine sunny days and we were raring to go to Usk, but that is another story.
Saturday, June 21, 2003
Day 58. Sunday, 22 June 2003. Peter and Joan.
We had an overdue invitation to have dinner with Peter and Joan stretching back before Vicky and Ian's wedding and Gillian and Anthony returned to the UK. We never seem to be able to fit the visit in due to other things but now at last we were able to do so.
We left late afternoon for a 6 p.m. arrival and with Vicky driving we travelled across to the Stroud area via the small country lanes. Our destination was the Slad Valley to the north of Stroud and Peter and Joan's home was high up on the Cotswold slopes.
The day was overcast and we came over the Cotswold tops it started to rain lightly and as we dropped down we came to Peter and Joan's driveway. The lane was so narrow and the driveway angling backward, Vicky had to do a 3-point manoeuvre to enter.
Peter and Joan met us on the steps, the rain had increased and they ushered us in quickly. During pre-dinner drinks the rain eased and our hosts took the opportunity to show us round their hillside garden. I quickly noted the thin chalky limestone soil and thought that to put a garden in here originally would have been quite an effort. Backing on to the house were woods and Peter told us that they had been having trouble with badgers coming down and digging up the lawns. Badgers not so long ago were becoming endangered species but now with conservation were breeding rapidly and in some localities were becoming a nuisance.
The vegetable garden was terraced and in part was in concrete sided beds about 600 millimetres high and 900 millimetres across. This allowed a good depth of topsoil to grow root vegetables successfully.
We returned back indoors and Peter told us on a clear day from up here they could see the River Severn Bridge looking past Stroud in the distance. Even on this dull rainy evening the view from up here was magnificent.
Soon we were called to dinner, which was indeed a pleasant meal we retired into the sun lounge, once a patio Peter told us and once more enjoyed the view. We chatted, at least the others chatted, I was feeling fatigued and tired so enjoyed listening mostly. I must have seemed a dull visitor, which I suppose I was.
We left about 10.00 p.m. and made our way back to Cricklade. I enjoyed our visit and I liked Peter and Joan, I found them interesting.
Thursday, June 19, 2003
Day 56-57. Friday-Saturday 19-20 June 2003. Quiet Days.
Cricklade High Street
After our London adventures yesterday we decided to have a quiet day, which then stretched into Saturday. Afterwards looking back as I write these up notes I think we were tired out from our long holiday and need a lo-o-og rest of much more than a day or two. We are now no longer young and weariness was setting in, something when we were young we didn't at all understand in older people entering their sunset years. I sat in the shade both days, I read and dozed and watched planes. Pat dozed in the lovely cool of the indoors or had a wander up the Cricklade High Street window shopping and chatting with the shop proprietors. How people love to talk! Tomorrow we were going out to dinner.
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Day 55. Continued. London Visit.
Hot day in central London
The weather was hot and sunny and after visiting all the usual sights in Central London we were hot and tired. We arrived more by good luck than management at a leafy square with seating to spare and spent time cooling off and people watching. It was difficult taking photos in the shade with the bright sun shining through and this was the best shots we could manage. On the top picture Ian and Pat can be just seen second and third to the right of the central lamp post. I doctored the picture a little and increased the brightness.
Piccadilly, London. Pat and Eric
A Bus Ride
Ian suggested we take a local city bus ride then get off the bus at a tube station that would connect us to where we left our parked car at Sudbury in outer London. We boarded the double-decker with the appropriate number and settled ourselves to-wards the front on the lower deck. A few stops down the bus route there were loud voices and a commotion seemed to erupt on the boarding platform. We could hear the conductor's voice demanding that someone get off. Then another voice suddenly shouting "I'll use it, I'll use it!". Again the conductor's demanding that someone get off and the other voice repeatedly saying " I'll use it, I'll use it". The conductor now saying "well use it then".
The bus was forced to stop at the roadside. All the while the bus was stationary at the bus stop children were screaming and adults shouting. The driver got out of his cab and went round to the rear. Someone phoned the police, Ian I think on his mobile and moments later 3 older, tubby soldiers turned up from a barracks from across the road. They didn't do much but go away again. The passengers became very restive asking "what was he going to use", we couldn't see anything from where we were. An old lady near us quietly and distinctly said "I think I will get off here" and got up saying politely "excuse me, excuse me" as she moved down the bus.
All the while the commotion and loud voices continued unabated. Odd passengers had been getting off the bus. Suddenly there was a mass rush for the exit, we sat tight. Suddenly the bus was empty and silence reigned. We then got off too. We decided against waiting for a following bus and went to the nearest tube station and caught a train to our preferred station. All that was left was the driver, conductor and one or two passengers and an empty bus. Regulations required the bus to stay where it had stopped until the police arrived to investigate the incident. Someone said the shouting passenger had left and wandered away up the road. What he threatened to use no one seemed to know. It could have been a knife, a gun or it might even have been a bomb, after all we were in London.
Thinking back later I remembered glimpsing a scene for an instant but it remained implanted in my mind. Moments earlier we passed some offices flying a flag and looking very official. In front was a soldier armed with an automatic gun at the ready and I thought this is London and it is escalating into becoming a dangerous place.
Day 55. Wednesday 19 June 2003. London Visit.
We left reasonably early this morning for London with Ian. He took the day off work and took us up for our visit and I think he enjoyed the trip too.
Our first port of call was Harrods again to see the things we didn't see on our last visit in 2000. I noted changes had taken place since our last visit. The cramped souvenir area had gone and a more spacious up front floor space had been allotted. We moved among the counters in this area and bought the inevitable tins of tea both Darjeeling and Assam. We can buy these teas at home locally in Hamilton, NZ but we buy it here in Harold’s and transport it home! I think it is the attraction of the fancy container and the Harrods name. Something bought at Harrods. I'm not at all sure that I like the new layout, it is now just like another shop, it could be anywhere; with the spaciousness the uniqueness seems to have disappeared.
Now for the food hall. In our hurry phase last visit we only passed through the food hall and glimpsed the marvellous layouts. This had changed too, the spectacular layouts had gone, it was now just an up market shop selling produce to its customers, but still worth a visit.
Through the news media I had gathered that Harrods had lost the royal seal of approval and customers too. Even though the Egyptian owner is a billionaire he still needs to make a profit and so changes are made to reduce costs. What next I wonder?
Was it the basement... I may be wrong? We found the shrine to Princess Diana and Dodie. Dodie was the son of the owner of Harrods and in his grief had erected the shrine in remembrance. The shrine consisted of to separate pictures of Dodie and Diana with 2 wine glasses below, one laying on its side with dried traces of red wine still visible within the fallen glass. These were the 2 glasses said to be last used by Diana and Dodie at their final meal before being driven away from their rendezvous and to their accidental deaths within the road tunnel. I wondered afterwards, did the fallen glass symbolise the finality of the lives of these two young people? Grief is a powerful thing and Dodie's father could not leave his grief alone. Was the fallen glass, the spilt wine a symbol of the spilt lives of Dodie and Diana? I think they were.
Pat in her conservatism thought the shrine a little tacky; I was inclined to agree with her to some extent. Everyone expresses their grief in different ways, some is private and at the opposite end of the scale other express their's publicly.
But this is a Journal of our travels, not a discourse of emotions. I continue.
Lunchtime came and we searched for the in house restaurant we visited last time and eventually found it. This had changed too and again with change, the magic cosiness had gone. In its place glass and chrome tables and chairs and it was now seemed more a glorified lunch bar. Not many people present either having lunch, just a spacious emptiness.
As we paid at the counter I asked for a ticket to the toilet otherwise it would cost you a £1.00 to pee. This had changed too, the toilet was now free. Going along to the toilet the dressed-up doorman had gone and so had the toilet assistant waiting to hand you the towel after the washing of hands. Another Harrods institution gone.
We slowly perused the other floors and among the outdoor furniture we came across a mighty BBQ, all £5000 plus of it and as big, no bigger than a kitchen. And it was on special too, knocked down from £7000+. Specials at Harrods? Yes, there were other ones too.
There was nothing else of note except the high prices and we went out into the hot afternoon sun.
To be continued.
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
Day 54. Wednesday 18 June 2004. Lay Day
It was good to relax today here in Cricklade after our trip. I spent most of the day relaxing in the shade in the garden. Even having my early morning cereal on the hard surface of Ian's upturned boat cushioned with Ian's thick coat.
Pat went for a wander up the High Street shopping and passing the time of day with the shopkeepers. Otherwise she mainly stayed indoors, the sun was too hot. The house interior was wonderfully cool and pleasant for her.
I spent most of the day reading the accumulation of second hand books I had accumulated and in the morning keeping an eye on the overhead planes and their vapour trails.
Monday, June 16, 2003
Day 53. Tuesday 17 June 2003. Goodbye Morecambe.
dWe left mid-morning and instead of travelling though the centre of Lancaster to Junction 34 on the M6 we back tracked to Junction 35 at Carnforth, an easier drive and probably almost as quick.
For the most part the M6 was fairly quiet and we stopped first for a rest at Sandbach and sat in the sun and had a cold drink. On our way again and approaching Birmingham we hit the inevitable road works and we were shunted into cone marked narrow lanes. The lanes were so narrow the large heavy lorries were progressing slowly on their inside lane, we were travelling a little faster and we could almost touch the lorries as we closely moved past. It was everyone eyes on the road. This was the area of the alternative link motorway to the north of Birmingham in its final stages of construction.
Clearing this area we soon saw the signs for our deviation on to the M5 and we made sure we were in our correct lane and kept a sharp and move if it was so indicated. Suddenly with no apparent effort the traffic dropping away and we were on the M5. At this point we decided to stop for a cup of tea and a rest at Strensham.
We had not too far to go now and soon it our off point at Junction 11A. Up and over the Cotswold Hills on the A414, it was The Ermin Way, an old Roman road and straight. Not long now and it was our turn off for Cricklade. And then a good rest.
The weather had been kind to us today, not too hot or humid.
Sunday, June 15, 2003
Day 52. Monday 16 June 2003. Long Walk & Hest Bank.
I went for a longer walk this beautiful sunny morning before breakfast, an hour. More of a stroll really. I went up the Promenade to wards the centre and the long jetty. In fact I went down to the end of the jetty and watched a scruffy beachcomber or should it be "mudcomber" pull a child's 2-wheeled bike out of the mud far below the jetty with a rope and large hook. Under the coating of mud the bike was in bright shiny condition. I congratulated him on his catch and he proceeded to tell me of his other trophies.
I then strolled back to Stangate Court wishing other early morning walkers and the Council staff cleaning up and watering the plants "Good Morning" as I met them. My injured foot felt fine.
After another scrumptious breakfast we all went up to the shops and afterwards across the road to see Eric Morecambe's statue on the Promenade and have my photograph taken with him like thousands of others before me. I think the statue was in three quarter size or was Eric Morecambe a small man? The metal statue was in matte black and didn't seem to quite jell with me as I remembered this funny loud man.
For those maybe reading this in years to come Eric Morecambe made up a comedy duo with Ernie Wise. Eric was the lead funny man and Ernie the more sober one. Eric was naturally funny without really trying but Ernie had to work at it. Both were very popular with the British public and had a following overseas too.
Eric died relatively early in life and the public of his home town of Morecambe clamoured for a statue to be erected in remembrance. His partner Ernie continued on with a comedy act but of course without Eric it was not the same and popularity slowly waned.
In the afternoon we went to nearby Hest Bank, to a grassy area overlooking Morecambe Bay where we had a picnic. John put up a shade awning and we spent a lazy summer afternoon. A lot of other people were doing the same.
In the hot evening I walked across the road and Pat came too, to the Promenade and sat as the evening faded away. We quietly talked of this and that, and old times and the new. We watched in the distance, the ferries leaving for Ireland and the Isle of Man and the flashing beacons over the Bay to-wards Barrow. The evening cooled and in our thin clothes I felt chilled and we returned to John and Edith.
Saturday, June 14, 2003
Day 51. Sunday 15 June 2003. Norman and Ina.
I decided to have an early morning walk. I didn't go too far, my foot was bothering me still and I had the arch supported. Healing is a slow business. It was a pleasant sunny morning with all the earmarks of a hot day to come and I enjoyed it.
Today we had arranged to visit my cousin Norman Brough and Ina in the afternoon. We followed the old A6 route to Milnthorpe noting landmarks we used to remember of years gone bye.
We found Norman looking as fit and active as ever at 73 and still looking much younger with his fitness. He told me he was doing a lot of work up to 6 hours daily in Kendal as well as local, gardening and landscaping. His skills are much in demand.
I told him of our West Cumberland experiences and news and he was interested. We also met the daughter who was absent during our last visit, Jackqueline who had a small child about 3 years.
Unfortunately Vera, Norman's sister living just up the road was away. I was sorry I missed her. We have not met Norman and Ina's only boy, Andrew except when he was a baby. I would have liked to have seen the adult version of Andrew but a long running family spat going back before our last visit 3 years ago in the year 2000 precluded that.
Family quarrels are bad enough but long running ones can be tragic for everyone. Pride can be a dangerous thing.
We returned to Morecambe and for some reason I felt deflated with our visit to Norman and Ina's and I'm not at all sure why.
I feel pleased our family do not have long standing quarrels and any spat is soon over. Yes, Pride and Jealousy are dangerous.
Friday, June 13, 2003
Day 50. Saturday 14 June 2003. A Day with John.
John asked me if I would like a ride down to near Blackpool. He is the area Caravaning Club camp site inspector who visits potential new sites who apply for listing. I jumped at the chance.
We left mid morning and John took me on a nostalgic route through to Lancaster and on to the old A6 main highway and we headed south. I'm afraid I did not recognise much at all except in Lancaster I recognised the inclined street where our Mum used to call into a café for a cup of tea when she was shopping in Lancaster. I went with her on the odd occasion shopping when on holiday from South Shields or possibly on leave when in the Merchant Marine. I remembered the street hill incline and roughly where the café was located.
I think we took a couple of sandwiches and some fruit from our car and stopped off for lunch just before we arrived at our destination. Our destination was the outskirts of a small village; a small farm who wanted to put in some caravan power points and list in the caravan and camping guide.
Whilst John inspected and measured and discussed with the owner I wandered away to look around. I could hear splashing nearby over a steep grassy bank with earthen steps upwards. Topping the rise I was very much surprised to find 3 large ponds and about 6 fishermen with large surf casting rods which appeared too large for the job. I could see splashing in the water as I walked along the bank of these man made ponds. I asked a close by fisherman what fish inhabited the ponds and the reason for the splashing. He told me Rudd, Carp and Perch inhabited the ponds and the splashing was from the large ones in the shore lined weed laying eggs and the fertilisation. I asked what size the fish were and he indicated half a metre... probably the Carp. He did not seem inclined to talk so I wandered along. The other fishermen didn't seem to want to talk either and as I approached they turned away and to my "gidday, catching much?" they just answered with a muttered reply. Strange!
Returning I saw a large old shed with a notice pinned to the wall with charges to fish and the times to late at night and saying tea was free but supply your own food.
On our return to Morecambe John took us via a different route up the A588 and then turned off down a short road to Glasson Dock. The land is low lying and very flat down here. Glasson Dock lies on the River Lune estuary into Morecambe Bay. It was once the dock for supplying coal via the Lancaster Canal network. Now that coal is no longer king the dock is a haven for pleasure boats to sail into Morecambe Bay or enter the now disused canal network.
The day we visited was warm and sunny and the dock was alive with people and cars. We stopped to look into the local antique and curio shop with many interesting things. A very old motor bike... looking more like a heavy duty cycle. Talking to the owner, he told us it was in original mint condition. It had spent most of its life unused and greased up for protection.
We wended our way home through the thickening late afternoon traffic via Lancaster again. On a corner a pink-haired punk stood waiting to cross the road. This reminded John of a coming yearly Punk weekend gathering which was worth a visit.
All in all an interesting day seeing how other people do and spend their leisure time.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Day 49. Friday 13 June 2003. Morecambe.
Well I wake up early to the early morning sun shining through the window. It is day 49 and 7 weeks since we left New Zealand. We have done many things and now we are here in Morecambe. I haven't been here since the 1950s but I still recognised many things as we came along the Promenade yesterday.
It is only 5.30 a.m. and as I sit up in bed I look through the window down into the street at a lone figure walking. What caught my eye was her dress, a black and white uniform and black stockings with a small frilly half rounded white hat perched on her head as she slowly sauntered up the street enjoying the warm morning sun. A maid from one of the holiday hotels no doubt going to work or from one of the larger boarding houses. June, the holiday season will just be getting into operation with the summer influx of visitors.
Nothing had changed here I thought, her dress was the same as 50 years ago. An after thought came to mind; when we were in Kendal in 2000 we visited a café in the Market Place and saw the same similar uniform of long ago. The old mixing with the new.
I went and made a cup of tea then searched and found a biscuit to help the tea go down. Later everyone was up and we had breakfast.
Mid morning, we all went up town to the library and down-loaded John's emails and ours too. I showed John how to write his emails when home to a disc and send them when he visited the library. The main shopping area was just off the Promenade together with the library and supermarkets. All nice and modern and much different since the 1950s with the new face lift.
The rest of the day was lazy and in the evening I went across the road to the Promenade to cool off after the heat of the day. Was Morecambe Bay always so muddy I wondered, with the tide out? I seemed to remember hard packed sand, deck-chairs and donkeys? Then maybe it was muddy this far down along the beach?
Late afternoon drinks then dinner and again we chatted during the evening. Early bed called. It was not the physical exercise of the day that was tiring, it was the brain trying to absorb everything that makes one tired.
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Day 48. Thursday 12 June 2003. Ponteland,Time to Leave.
Unfortunately we had to leave today and would have loved to stay longer. Again on this leg of our journey we did not seem to have allowed enough time for everything.
David and Moira's eldest daughter Diane came to visit and meet us this morning. She is tall and thin and looks like Moira and we liked her immediately along with her long dog Slinky. Diane told us she was keen on aerobics. We all saw Ian and Vicky's wedding tape and photos on the computer. I looked closely at the photos of David and Moira's children and grandchildren and our ones. I saw flashes of David in them but no look-a-likes. One daughter resembled Gillian but not much else.
We leave David and Moira with hugs at 12.30 p.m. and we retrace our route back across country to the M6 motorway. Diane insisted that she guide us back to the main highway and we were glad of her offer.
Traffic was light and we were soon across to the M6 and a little way down we stopped off for a snack. The soup was luke-warm. As we continued and passing Kendal turn-off we both said out loud "Goodbye Cathy, goodbye Verd". I doubt we shall see them again and we felt a little sad.
Turning off the M6 at junction 35 at Carnforth we headed for Morecambe on the old A6 road we remember of long ago. Soon we were on the long Morecambe Promenarde and following John's directions we soon saw him waving on the corner near the vacated derelict petrol station (now being turned into a superette) and their apartment just across the road.
Soon we were in their comfortable upper floor apartment and over a cup of tea told them all our adventures. Later after dinner and more talk I decided to go to bed, tired out from the days activities, it was 9.15 p.m. John and Edith had given up their room and bed for us and I slept well.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Day 47. Wednesday 11 June 2003. A Day in Ponteland
We spent a lazy day today. Pat with David's wife Moira went shopping. David and I spent the morning talking; at least I did most of the talking with David asking the occasional question. David finds his speech impediment from his stroke a nuisance. His mind is very active but it is an effort to talk and frustrating trying to have his mangled speech understood by someone else.
He was patient with me when I didn't understand what he said and slowly repeated what he said. After a while I got used to his speech and followed him better. It hurt to see him like this and I felt sadness remembering the David I once knew as boy and man, later to become Head of Department of both Science and Mathematics at Newcastle Polytechnic.
His stroke as well as affecting his speech had also rendered his right hand weak and caused him writing difficulties. On the plus side he could still drive his car and continue to walk.
As I talked I described to him our visit to West Cumbria, what we had seen and found. We talked of his book, his life story now privately printed as a present from one of his daughters. He later gave me the draft copy notes of his book as used in the printing process. Much of his book featured his Brough grandfather, uncles and aunts who were mine too.
The garden was Moira's pride and joy, a lovely private place in this leafy suburb of Ponteland. Walking with David in the quiet streets on this warm sunny day it could have been a leafy New Zealand suburb.
We all went out to lunch to a largish pub with very large meals. Senior's got it for half price providing they asked during ordering. I saw the written notice and alerted everyone to the fact. I was glad when Pat slipped away and paid the bill. In the afternoon Pat slept, not being used to heavy lunchtime meals.
That evening David went to help one of his daughters, her husband suffered from cancer and had taken a turn for the worse. We sat with Moira and she talked of life with David after his stroke and his speech and memory problems and her loneliness of no longer able to hold a normal conversation with David. My heart went out to her, even though he could have been worse. I think she had to get it off her chest to someone and that someone one step removed from the immediate family is often better than the immediate family.
She also talked of Dace and Kate, David's parents. Kate was my mother's younger sister. The happy joking Dace was not the real Dace. There was another side to Dace. Later as I closely read David's life story I could understand reading between the lines what Moira meant. Moira was not too fond of Dace. On the other hand Moira loved David's mother Kate. The same bright and breezy aunt Kate I remember as a boy whom I also thought the world of as a child.
I quite liked the straight to the point Moira and the apple of her eye after David, Lara the Labrador, absolutely spoilt by both she and David. She made us very welcome even turning out of her and David's bed to make us more comfortable.
During our stay I felt comfortable with David. As we sat together I felt like he was more like a brother than a cousin. It felt as it feels when I am sitting and talking with John... I can't quite put it into words on paper but it is a pleasant relaxed feeling... comfortable. Probably it is the affinity of the same genes in all of us... it would have to be the Brough genes, common to all of us. I see the same comfortable atmosphere when Gillian, Anthony or Ian are talking together, sharing confidences.
We leave tomorrow and I don't want to. I don't think Pat does either she too found the atmosphere pleasant.
I searched for a good web site of Ponteland. There were plenty but nothing really appropriate, just sites of individual organisations
Monday, June 09, 2003
Day 46. Tuesday 10 June 2003. To Ponteland.
I have now returned to the Travel Journal normal daily entries.
This morning we left the comfortable Kelsey Hotel and headed in the direction of Carlisle on our way to Ponteland which is just north of Newcastle-on-Tyne.
We had planned to stop in Carlisle to visit Pat's sister for morning. Entering Carlisle we were instructed to turn right at the "Quick Save" store sign with a couple of right and left turns. We found the store sign ok and followed the instructions and got lost. Street names didn't match the instructions so we retraced our steps back to the main road and headed to our destination.
Sometime later Pat phoned Olive and told her of our lost problem. Olive said that sorry but without thinking she had given us the instructions for coming from the town of Bothel direction.
We wound our way through the heavy traffic of Carlisle trying to keep our eyes on the signs and eventually saw a sign for the A69 road with Newcastle on it. Good, I thought I’ve managed to get on to the right road and we left the snarled Carlisle traffic behind. The A69 road was a pleasurable drive both for light traffic and scenery. I thought of my grandmother Irving, her family came from this area we were passing through, Brampton and Kirklinton, Heathergill and Stapleton. Approaching Newcastle we pulled into a lay-by, Moira, David's wife said she would instruct us of our route to turn off before reaching Newcastle. These instructions were complex but in the very light traffic I accomplished them with ease and suddenly here we were outside David and Moira's house. It was barely midday our journey had been quick.
David and Moira plus the dog were out to greet us and it was good to see David once more. I hugged him like a long lost brother although we had seen David and Moira near Carlisle 3 years ago, albeit briefly for a few hours.
Moira had a fine lunch prepared and after lunch David was eager to take me down to South Shields to see my old haunts. As David backed the car out of the garage I saw with surprise that it was a BMW. I hopped in and I remarked how comfortable it was. David demonstrated a few of the gadgets beaming with pleasure, a smile that reminded me of Uncle Joe Brough our mutual uncle and both our mother's brother.
South Shields
David first took me through the centre of Newcastle and periodically asked me if recognised this or that and I kept saying "I don't remember" or saying "it looks familiar but it has been a long time" I spotted the lattice work of the Tyne bridge and bouncing in my seat shouted "the bridge, I remember the bridge". David laughed uproariously; I think he knew that the changing city would confuse me. We then headed down to South Shields at the mouth of the River Tyne.
Arriving in South Shields David asked me where I would like to go first and I indicated down to Ocean Road. David didn't know South Shields and asked for directions but I didn't recognise a thing to get my bearings. We drove around and went into Westoe, which David knew. A few things seemed vaguely familiar but not enough to get my bearings. We passed through Westoe Village 3 times and suddenly I shouted that I had seen something very familiar. I had seen some iron bollards, now I knew where we were! David spotted a parking place and pulled in. We walked the short way back to the bollards and I pointed out a walkway, which I had trod many times in 1949-1950 when I was at South Shields Marine and Technical College.
The walkway led to "The Cut" and through to where the College hostel was once located. Coming out at the other end of The Cut everything I remember had been demolished and new houses had taken their place.
We returned to the car and I pointed David to the direction that would take us down to Ocean Road. On the way down hill everything again that I remembered had gone, even the once familiar road. I realized South Shields in 55 years had gone through a major transformation, many, many buildings and landmarks had been demolished, and just little pieces of the old were still left here and there.
As we went downhill in the direction of the harbour I saw the dome of the old College building and as we turned into Ocean Road David took us into a supermarket parking area and we then walked down to the College building now used as a pub! I looked around; Ocean Road had also gone through major changes. The upper part was now a pedestrian mall, familiar shops had gone, and so had the Palladium cinema. I took some photos and then we went back once more to the car in the supermarket car park. Coming into the car park we had had to go through a barrier and pay a £1.00 entrance fee. This was only refunded on departure if you bought groceries above a certain value. I found this very strange.
We then went down Ocean Road and turned into Lawe Road were I spent over a year in Mrs. Greenwell's boarding house. I dredged the thought up from the depths of my mind that it might be number 47 and it was.
Photos again of the boarding house and I took David backed by the harbour and the Marsden cliffs in the distance. I noticed in the camera lens how drawn he was looking and realised he was very tired; straight away I proposed we return to Ponteland.
David took the car slowly back in the heavy late afternoon rush hour traffic and I worried a little on the way that he had not over-done himself. But arriving home and after a rest he looked better.
I was quiet in the evening and re-thought those days as a vibrant young man of 55 years ago. The familiar landmarks, mostly now gone. The recurring dream of walking down from Westoe village to Ocean Road, the road now demolished. Time once more had brough change.
Sunday, June 08, 2003
Day 45. Monday 09 June 2003. Visiting Bromfield
In the morning we were up early to a lovely full English breakfast in the dining room just us and another couple. So we weren't then the only people staying last night. We wanted (or at least I wanted) to continue our look around the area before we left for Bromfield, for we had an appointment at 10.30 a.m. down a in Bromfield with Harry the last primary school headmaster prior to the school closing a few years ago. So our day started early.
We spent at least 4 hours down in Bromfield and looking round. As we returned we called in at Crookdake where my Grandfather once farmed at Intack House followed then by my Uncle Tommy my mother's youngest brother.
Returning we then visited Whitehall estate where my father worked as a young man and where we then lived. I was born at Hole House on the estate and so was my brother John and my cousin David Bell, his mother was my mother's younger sister.
The rest of the afternoon quickly disappeared. We had not to be too late back for our dinner this evening. Pat's sister Olive Armstrong who lives in the nearby City of Carlisle was coming to visit for the evening. During dinner Olive arrived so we squeezed her in on our small table and invited her to join us but she declined. So as we finished our dinner Olive had a couple of drinks as she and Pat shared their news.
We then moved up to our room and all to soon a cell phone call announced the arrival of Olive's youngest daughter Val Armstrong come to pick her up to take her home. Val turned out to be a bubbly 30-year-old and full of life. She was employed by BBC Radio Cumbria as a program host and producer. Val's head and shoulders photo is to be found on the station's home web page. We were to learn some time later from John and Edith that Val is the BBC Radio Cumbria’s most popular host and her program has a strong following throughout the region.
Olive gave us the directions to her home in Carlisle; we were passing through Carlisle next day on our way to visit David Bell in Newcastle. But that is tomorrow, another story.
We had 2 pleasant days in and around Mealsgate and Bromfield. The June weather was fine and balmy and the sun didn't set until after 9 30 p.m. in the evenings. We should have stayed longer.
Visits to Mealsgate, Bromfield and surrounding area 09-10 June 2003
This is a description of where we went and what I found during our visit to West Cumberland. There is much to write and so I am taking time out, a breather from the regular daily journal to write of what I saw and what we did and also include a little history of our West Cumberland families. Later I will use these pieces to write an expanded history of our West Cumberland families, as I know it.
The piece is long, equivalent to about 6 A4 sheets. I have therefore broken it up into number of sections.
Area Map Here
Mealsgate
Close up Map Here
The first place we visited was Allhallows Church, a significant place to me.
I was christened here at Allhallows Church; both my Irving grandparents are buried here, too. When this relatively modern Church of the late 1800s was built to replace the nearby very old Church some of the red sandstone building blocks were supplied from the nearby Crookdake quarries owned by my Brough great-grandfather Pattinson Brough. One of his sons Joseph was my grandfather, he was a stone mason before he became a farmer farming at Crookdake.
We were fortunate enough when visiting the Church to meet Les Raven the Vicar's Warden who told us some of this information. Les’s family had been tied to this area for many generations.
When I was a teen-ager I attended the funeral of my grandmother Irving and I vaguely remembered where she was buried in the churchyard and I walked around to the side of the Church half way along and almost immediately found the gravestone. There too was my grandfather Irving's name on the gravestone who outlived his wife by a good number of years. I stood for quite a while remembering my grandmother, a large cheerful lady always laughing who haled from Nicholforest well north of Carlisle and Longtown on the border of Scotland.
I thought of my grandfather Irving, a not very tall man with one twinkling eye, he had lost the other in a mining accident. I remembered the resemblance of my father to my grandfather. I looked like my father too and so does Ian. The strong resemblance goes through 4 generations. I took photos of the Irving gravestone and also some of the Brough gravestones in the churchyard. These Brough's would be from our Brough's extended family.
Whilst looking round Mealsgate we went along the A595 road in a southwesterly direction for a mile or so. Here was the West Lodge, one of 2 gateways to Whitehall Estate, my father had been employed at Whitehall and we had lived in the Lodge. I recognized the Lodge immediately with its special pointed window. I had last seen the Lodge when I was 3 years old. Talking to the residents of the West Lodge I could not elicit much information from them, they had only lived there for 6 weeks. They did point us in the direction of East Lodge the other entrance to Whitehall, the residents there had been in residence there for 11 years. We did not take photos the evening light was poor.
The following day we returned to take photos of West Lodge when the light was better and close up shots of the pointed window ( more of that later).
In the afternoon we visited East Lodge for photos and hopefully to meet the residents. We arrived at the right time and were invited in for afternoon tea by Richard and Elizabeth after I had explained who I was and what I wanted. We stayed an hour. I enquired of Hole House, the place that I was born and so were John and my cousin David who said he had been born there too. In those days it was usual to be born at home and not in a maternity hospital. John and Elizabeth told us Hole House was also on the White Hall Estate just over the rise of a field as we looked out of the window. Unfortunately the house had been in an advanced state of decay and was demolished recently. So I had to do without of any photos of the place of my birth. I took a few photos of East Lodge for the record even though it did not have much significance for me. Richard and Elizabeth had expanded East Lodge from its original design when they retired from the Newcastle area 11 years ago.
The Pointed Window of West Lodge
A strange title but it is again of significance to me. I remember it well.
If you think first of a bay window, it bowed out in a circular fashion. Standing in the window bowed portion you can see forward and also to the sides. This pointed window instead of being circularly bowed out was like a triangle and being 2 windows, one looking in the left direction and one looking in the right direction. The reason for this window was to be able to stand in the triangular space and look left passed the end of the Lodge and down the drive to Whitehall mansion.
Mr. Moore the owner of Whitehall would tell the staff what time he would be leaving on business and a message would be delivered by hand to the Lodge. Before the appointed time someone would stand in the pointed window and watch down the drive and the moment when Mr. Moore’s vehicle was spotted that person would rush outside and open the big wooden gate for the vehicle to sail through without a pause. The gates were kept closed at all times. The gates have gone now but the large stone gateposts are still there and the holes for the gate iron fittings.
As I stood observing the special window I remembered the ice-cream man on his specially equipped bicycle biking up to the window, my mother opening the window and buying a cornet of ice-cream from him. Then he would pedal away up the road.
Watch Hill
Map Here
Leaving Allhallows Church and continuing up the road I could see a kilometre away the hamlet of Watch Hill and on the rising ground East House the home of my grandfather Brough after he retired from the farm. East House was an odd shaped house built of red sandstone. By strange coincidence this house was built by my grandfather when he was a stonemason working in the family business then owned by my great grandfather, Pattinson Brough. The stone would also come from the Brough Crookdake quarries.
I wanted to photograph of East House and thought it prudent to ask permission of the owner, as I wanted to photo the place from different angles. The owner, a lady was on the phone and when she came to the door I explained what I wanted and who I was. She quickly put her caller on hold; it was her daughter on a toll call. She said “yes” I was welcome to photograph the house and would I like to come back tomorrow for tea, she would love to talk over the house history. I only had a day and a half and I politely declined, I felt a little mean, but I would probably never see this area again and I had to be firm, I had a lot of ground to cover..
I also photographed the house below, a bungalow. This had been my Aunt Lizzie's home, my half aunt really by my grandfather Brough's second wife. Lizzie had passed away the year previous to our UK trip. The bungalow was built on land originally belonging East House when Lizzie married later in life.
Just a short distance up the hill from East House is Rose Cottage, which was the home of my Grandfather Irving: my father was born here. Rose Cottage was the lower one of 3 terraced cottages facing the road and it had its own drive in to the rear adjoining land. Grandfather Irving owned all 3 cottages and rented out the other two. He would probably have purchased the block of 3 when he inherited half of his father's farm; Dixon Irving, my great grandfather. I wondered if my grandfather resembled his father Dixon Irving. I took more photographs here too.
We then move on to the hamlet of Crookdake another kilometre or so and stopped for a moment outside Intack house and what was once my grandfather Brough's farm before his retirement to East House in Watch hill.
Crookdake was earmarked for tomorrow so we didn't stay here, we were going down to Bromfield, 6 kilometres away... 3 miles to look over the lay of the land.
Blennerhasset
Although we lived in this place for only a short time I wanted to visit the place. Again memories drew me to it. Blennerhasset was only a short drive from Mealsgate so we made a flying visit.
When I was about 4 years old by my calculations Whitehall was sold and we had to move and my father find new employment.
We moved temporarily into a rented 2 up, 2 down terraced house in Blennerhasset. Again I had not problem recognising the village with its traditional village green, school and river, the River Ellen, a small river. I soon by a process of elimination worked out which of the terraces was “our” and then which house we had lived in. I again did the same to were my Dad had built the famous “Green Hut” at woodwork classes, at least to us it was famous. Over the years wherever we moved to collapsible green hut went too.
The river wharf I soon found now buried in long grass and bushes long since used. I took sadly, a poor photo of the school I sneaked into at 4 years old and the primer teacher couldn’t understand why she had an extra pupil. Did we all look the same?
We only stayed barely an hour. Funny just down the road a short way was Aspatria; I had cousins living here on my Irving side. But time was precious unfortunately.
Bromfield
Map Here for all areas
Our Brough family had lived at Bromfield since the late 1700s. Prior to that they had lived going back into the mists of time only 5 kilometres away as the crow flies in the vicinity of Abbeytown and was somewhat further by road. Records of the Brough's here peter out prior to the 1600s.
Just before entering Bromfield village I saw a large house and as my mind raced I recognised it as Uncle Joe Brough's house, which he bought when he married at the late age of 48-50. It was a magnificent large house in white standing proudly in its own grounds on a slight rise. I last saw it as a small boy whilst staying there. I may have been 7. I immediately stopped and took a photo in the fading evening light. I would have liked to go closer but I didn't. It was a wise decision, talking to Harry (mentioned shortly) next day he told me the gate entrance was guarded by an alarm system and usually switched on around 6 p.m.
Arriving in Bromfield, really not much more than a hamlet we parked by the Greyhound Hotel, small, very old and drab and closed this Sunday afternoon. Looking around there was not a soul in sight. Not a very good start or impression of Bromfield. I noticed an open side door and stuck my head round the door and could hear activity, I went in further and met the surprised landlord doing his chores. Enquires soon elicited that the man to see who was full of knowledge of the area was Harry Douglas, retired headmaster of the closed primary school. " That is if he takes to you, he doesn't take to everyone,” said the dour publican and he pointed out Harry's house.
Going down the road I knocked on Harry's door, the door opened and a stocky man said "Yes?" and I explained who I was and I was the nephew of Joe Brough, my mother's brother who live in the village until he passed away. We talked for a little while, Harry keeping me at arms length so to speak. Abruptly he said " come back tomorrow morning at 10.30 and I'll show you around". We did and a finer man we could not have met. Harry couldn’t do enough for us and was a wealth of knowledge.
The following morning when we returning, Harry true to his word told us all he knew of the history of Bromfield and the ancient St. Mungo's, Bromfield Parish Church. He had looked up the church records of my uncle's Joe Brough and Tommy but they weren’t listed. Harry said they would have been cremated. Harry also set up a meeting with a farmer surnamed Mashiter a friend of Joe Brough to glean further information.
Whilst Pat looked round the Church I spent my time in the churchyard and following some long remembered instructions went round to the far stone wall at the rear of the church looking for my Brough grandparents grave and to my surprise quickly found the gravestone. The stone was large, white and the lettering crystal clear, it had weathered well. It was first erected in the early 1900s on the death of my grandmother Isabella Brough at the age of 34 leaving my grandfather Joseph Brough a young family to cope with. Working as a stonemason and builder in his father's business he employed a housekeeper, a widow with a small child to look after his young family of 5. My mother would be about 5 years old at the time with 2 elder brothers and a younger sister and brother. They all lived on the outskirts of Bromfield village in a large house given to them by Pattinson Brough my grandfather's father (my great-grandfather).
Reading the gravestone also buried in the plot were my grandfather Brough when his day came and his second wife Mary Elizabeth Sails who had been the housekeeper. Grandfather Brough had married Mary Elizabeth Sails 3 years after the death of his first wife Isabella Hoodless. So the family had a mother once more.
I then looked round the churchyard at all the gravestones I could read and any with Brough mentioned I photographed. I had expected many more gravestones for all the generations of Brough's for almost 300 years. They were not there. Harry told me many of the gravestones had fallen down or had broken and in the early days had been carted away and used as rubble and in some cases road making. I was a little horrified. For many years now Harry told me, fallen stones and ones leaning over had been removed and erected alongside the churchyard wall on all 4 sides to preserve them. This accounted for the large expanses of mown grass to be seen throughout the graveyard.
I kept going back to my grandparents’ gravestone as I moved round the churchyard looking for names. I kept thinking of them. I thought of the hard times they endured in the days of the early 1900s. There were no antibiotic drugs; diseases we regard today as relatively minor were major killers before the advent of modern drugs. Was this why my grandmother died at 34 or was it something else? There was no government assistance of any kind unless you were destitute and then it was removal to the Workhouse. The Brough's were luckier than most. They were by the standards of the day of middle class standing and were able to shoulder the financial burden of loosing a wife and mother. But it must have been devastating to those who were then children ages ranging from 10 down to 2 years. I never knew that my maternal grandmother had died at a young age until recent years. I always thought that Mary Elizabeth Hoodless grandfather’s 2nd wife was my grandmother. It was never talked about when I was a child. I remember my mother speaking vaguely of hard times when she was a child but nothing specific.
There was a silver lining as far as gaining a housekeeper, 3 years later to become a wife and stepmother. I remembered my step grandmother when I was a child and later as a teenager as a quiet person, always pleased to see us. I remembered as I stood in the churchyard by the gravestone when my step grandmother was close to passing away, my mother went to stay with her. She was frightened of impending death and each night my mother would sleep in the same bed as her stepmother, hold her and comfort her all night long. She must have been a fine stepmother to those Brough children for my mother to do this. These then were the children later to become my aunts and uncles and one to become my mother in later years.
I must have stayed in the churchyard a long time. Pat had gone long ago gone back to the car. She later told me as the day progressed into the early afternoon the hot sun was too much for her. The car was parked next to the hotel and an elder member of the publican's family; probably the publican’s father was repairing the hotel wall. He kindly suggested that Pat step into the cool empty bar and takes a seat for which Pat was grateful to do until I returned.
We then retraced our journey back towards Mealsgate and stopped off at Crookdake to take photographs. I went round to the backdoor of Intack House Farm to seek permission to look around. No one was home so I strolled around the farmyard and took a series of photos, about 15 photos I suppose. I took pictures of the house and buildings, even the built in dove cote built into one of the farm buildings. Where the duck pond and the midden once were.
Pattinson Brough and his sons including my grandfather had built Intack Farm after a normal days work in their building business, every stone of it. First my great-grandfather Pattinson Brough lived at Intack House Farm and then my grandfather Joseph Brough inherited it and ran the farm. On his retirement Joseph's youngest son Tommy Brough, my uncle Tommy bought and ran the farm until his death.
When I checked the photos on the laptop later in the early evening I found that I had only 2 photos. I had been using Ian's digital camera and again I had forgot to remove the lens cap. All the photos but 2 were blank shots; the 2 that I did get were of the front of Intack House, afterthought shots taken from the road.
Yes, I was upset at the time but I could have quickly returned to take more but I didn't, I was tired and weary after such a long day.
Saturday, June 07, 2003
Day 44. Sunday 08 June 2003. The Place where I was Born
Today we leave for West Cumbria. After packing we have a hearty English breakfast once more and say goodbye to Olive Knowles our B & B host.
We then went down to Oxenholme to say farewell to Verd and Kath but we didn't stay too long. A thought crosses my mind briefly but I didn’t voice it to Pat, this visit will be almost probably be the last time we will see them in the flesh to talk to. Did this cross Pat's mind too? She was quiet after we left Verd and Kath.
We headed on the A591 via Windermere, Ambleside and then to Keswick. Here we had a job deciphering the road junctions. There is a break in the A591 and briefly we were on the A66 and then turn off to continue on the A591 again to Bothel junction. It was more by good luck than good management we navigated this area, signs were none existent. The A591 is now a narrower minor ‘A’ road for this section. However our journey along the whole of the A591 was a pleasant one. Before we reached Bothel, our turn off we stopped for a rest and a cooling drink in a lay-by and as I walked up and down there was just silence and the birds. Wild roses tangled the uncut hedgerow. Not many people come this way certainly not tourists.
On the road again we shortly arrived at Bothel, a small sparse village and we turn left on to the A595 to-wards Wigton and Carlisle. This a fast straight road with lots of traffic and suddenly there was the crossroad sign for Mealsgate, our destination. Pulling in to the side of the road, where was our pre-booked accommodation, the Kelsey Hotel? Certainly not at the crossroads with it clumps of houses dotted here and there. So we went up the side road for a way to other clumps of houses, saw some one and they pointed us back to the main road and up the small hill to (yes) another clump of houses. There was the 2-storied Kelsey Hotel in cheery bright pink. It was once a large private house known as the Pink House.
Our journey had not taken us long, the time was only noon. The proprietor showed us up to our room at the rear of the hotel and we dropped our bags. We looked at one another; no we weren't hungry with one of Olive Knowles breakfasts inside us. So off we went exploring, first around the immediate area of Mealsgate and then back for an early dinner at the Kelsey Hotel. There were only a few visiting couples in for Sunday night dinner and we were the only staying guests. Dinner was nice and cosy in the Bar and I felt at home with the sound of the strong drawling West Cumbrian brogue wafting around us. The brogue of my parents, uncles, aunts and grandparents as I remember it of those days so long ago. I noticed we got a few curious stares from those around, probably wondering who we were, obviously not local from the sound of us.
After dinner we went in the direction of Bromfield to sound out the area and not waste time searching for places tomorrow. My small boy remembrances of the area did not fail me and I mentally bookmarked where to go tomorrow.
We returned to the hotel and went to bed early tired out. We had done so much today.
I will write about Mealsgate and Bromfield and what I found after I finish Day 45.
Friday, June 06, 2003
Day 43. Saturday 07 June 2003. A Lay Day
I could not manage a full English breakfast this morning, the Beef Stroganoff still lay where I had placed it in my stomach last night at the Heron Hill Hotel.
We went up town and had a lazy day; the town was all a buzz. It was Saturday shopping day. We managed to find a parking slot on the top floor of the parking building. I was glad we had the little Mira again; we were able to slip in to the tight parking spot. The parking building in Kendal leaves a lot to be desired when comparing it with our efficient NZ parking buildings. But then that is what one gets in England when trying to modify the old to take the new. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that. However it is true.
I was glad to see Saturday shopping was still a weekly ritual for people as it was in the 1950s and 1960s. People looking, buying and the pubs full for Saturday lunch.
In the afternoon we finished with a light meal at Morrison's and a few items of shopping. Tomorrow we were leaving for West Cumbria, to the place of my birth.
Thursday, June 05, 2003
Day 42. Friday 06 June 2003.
This evening we met Sandra and Bernard Airey for an evening meal at the Heron Hill Hotel. Heron Hill was a modern suburb of Kendal and the "in" place to build when we livid in Kendal in the early 1940s, a nice area. The Hotel was relatively new and reminded me much of a typical NZ Motor Hotel set in its own grounds with lots of shrubs planted around.
Pat and Sandra talked of times both old and new; they first met and became friends as young teenagers when working for the telephone exchange in Kendal subsequently holidaying together.
I really first met Bernard when Pat and I married, Sandra was Pat's bridesmaid. I always found him pleasant and friendly and interesting to talk to. Bernard's interests lay outdoors, gardening, fishing, hunting, I think and as we talked I posed him a question. Why were there now so many nettles in the British Isles and unkempt hedgerows? In the 1940s and 1950s hedges and grass verges were neat and tidy, the verges regularly trimmed and most farmers and local authorities kept the insidious nettles in check by cutting them. I thought if anyone could satisfy my curiosity, it would be Bernard.
He thought for a moment, probably thinking the question a little strange. He then proceeded to tell me the story. Apparently as towns and cities encroached more and more on the countryside, more intensive farming, more people enjoying the countryside, farmers removing hedges for bigger fields, more roading and vehicle increase the environment was suffering. As the years, decades passed once common insects, animals, plants and bird life were decreasing in numbers, in fact in some cases becoming scarce or approaching extinction. It was suggested local authorities leave the undergrowth of hedge rows on roadsides were left untended and farmers paid an allowance to do likewise where possible. Any vacant ground in the countryside and along waterways is left to naturalise.
By these "roads" of vegetation flora and fauna could breed undisturbed and travel from area to area more easily and so hopefully multiply and repopulate the countryside.
This is a simplistic explanation but it illustrates what was involved to protect nature and satisfy my curiosity particularly to a well-remembered smell of nettle pollen permeating the air as I walked in various places.
Back to Bernard and Sandra. We left the Heron Hill Hotel and had coffee at their nearby home and meeting one of their daughters. Before we left the hotel I got up to pay the bill for our meal. During our 2000 visit Bernard had insisted he pay for our treat then. But Bernard unbeknown to me had again circumvented me by going to the toilet and settling the bill at the same time!
We returned to Olive Knowles' B & B pleasantly tired out and ready for sleep.
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
Day 41. Thursday 05 June 2003. Visit to Cartmel.
Today we decided to go down to Newby Bridge at the southern end of Lake Windermere, by mid morning we arrived. We crossed the little narrow bridge and looking for parking but we found little. Then we spotted a small side road and then saw a few cars parked precariously along the steep road verge on the opposite side of the road. There was nowhere to turn on the narrow road so we continued up for a way and found a likely turning place. Returning we saw our intended parking place still empty and we manoeuvred the little Mira into the space.
We had a short walk past an imposing lake frontage hotel; there were few people around except for local employees. We didn't stay long, although a sunny morning a keen cold wind was blowing so we returned to the car. As we drove away I wondered where everyone parked on a busy day.
Leaving Newby Bridge we headed to our main destination... Cartmel was not too far away. Neither of us had been to Cartmel before, its the sort of place one has to go to for a reason, being off the main road route.
Passing through Grange over Sands I noticed it not changed one iota since the last time I had visited as a young man 40 plus years ago. The same large and grand retirement hotels were up on the hillside overlooking Morecambe Bay. Do rich people still retire here to these establishments to while away their days as days gone by?
Following the signposts we eventually found Cartmel village. At first it appeared to be just a pub and a few cottages but as we drove a little further we entered a lovely picturesque village square enclosed on all four sides by the shops, hotels and houses, in a world apart. Passing through the square we parked in the racecourse car park... this little village is famous for its horse races. It was only a short walk back to the square. Here at Cartmel used to be a Priory but the only sign of its existence now is the Tower so with the help of John and Edith's National Trust card had a look round. In the Tower we were suddenly transported back to medieval times. Low doorways, rustic woodwork and up and down narrow passageways. I had this feeling that a monk might have popped out of one of the many nooks at any time. The Tower stands at one side of what was once the gateway to the Priory and is now a road. The Tower then extends over the gateway (road) and down into the National Trust shop on the other side. In here was a donation box for further funds for the local National Trust. The notice said the National Trust main body did not fund Cartmel Priory Tower!!
Here there was no sign of the sharp wind of Newby Bridge. The day was beautiful, sunny and balmy. We also had lunch here. First we checked the hotel menus but they were mainly heavy meals and then we spotted a small cafe, once a larger house. This had the meals we wanted. Entering the place was half full and the empty tables were reserved except for one small pocket hanky chief sized one. Pat and I looked doubtful but we sat down. The owner bustled across and pointed us to one of the "reserved" tables, much more roomy. Other customers also came in and moved to sit at the small-unreserved table and were ushered like us to one of the "reserved " tables. We could only think it was one way of filtering out unwelcome guests.
Cartmel was a busy little place with quite a number of tourist coaches visiting. After our stay we returned to the car park and left. On the way in I had noticed an honesty box for fees when leaving but when we left I forgot all about it until we were well down the road.
We were quickly back in Kendal by mid afternoon and tired so we went up Scout Scar overlooking Kendal and parked our car for the view. Shortly after we arrived there was a ring on our mobile and we were surprised to find Anthony on the line. Biggles was in trouble. He had been taken into Huntly Vets by the Cattery where we had left him. He was most unwell and the initial prognosis was not good. Anthony was upset, Pat was in tears and I was close to tears too. Afterwards we discussed the situation and we could only leave the situation in Anthony's and the Dave, the vet's hands to do what was best.
Fortunately things did improve and Dave pulled him through at the time. Needless to say our day was spoilt and we worried for days, weeks afterwards. Fortunately we were kept busy on our holiday and this helped to suppress our anxiety and distress.
Tuesday, June 03, 2003
Day 40. Wednesday 04 June 2003. Sizergh Castle
Neither of us had been to Sizergh Castle before just down the road from Kendal so today we decided it was worth a visit.
Being a National Trust property John and Edith's National Trust cards came in useful. The Castle although 750 years old is more like a very large house or large mansion and although it was mid-week and out of the holiday season the place was quite busy especially when we visited the cafe for cool drinks and light lunch.
There were numerous stories to the Castle depending which side of the Castle one stood on the sloping ground. The 1600-acre property is criss-crossed with walks but we kept to the Castle area.
The Castle has been in the hands of the Strickland family for most of its 750 years. An interesting fact not normally known is 2 brothers of the family came to NZ in the early 1800s and opened up the Wellington and Nelson provinces. A statue in Wellington commemorates one of the brothers.
An interesting feature of Sizergh Castle was many of the windows had a central stone pillar that at a distance seemed to be of the same or similar design to Vicky and Ian's house at Cricklade Priory. There is a name for this pillar but it escapes me now.
Another feature, which lodged in my mind, was the large rock garden along side of the Castle wall, once an orchard I believe. The rock garden continued a series of small ponds with limestone rocks, a feature of this area of Cumbria. Among the rocks were planted coloured leafed maples and other coloured leaf plants. They looked beautiful, almost an autumn look although it was barely Summer yet.
In the souvenir shop as I browsed a small book caught my eye. Just what I wanted, a book of British wild flowers and reduced to clear too! As a boy I knew all my wildflowers, living so close to nature but as the decades pass with no close interaction with wild plants the memory dims. Seeing them again I recognize the flower or leaf but the name usually escapes me so the book will bring back pleasurable moments. NZ has many British plants in its fields and hedgerows brought over with the early settlers both by design and accident.
We returned to Kendal after a pleasant warm and sunny day.
Day 39. Tuesday 03 June 2003. The Canal Visit
Today we went down to Crooklands once a sleepy little village when I lived at nearby Kidside in the 1940s and 1950s. Now it is well known as the major off ramp from the M6 to the Lake District, a large motel complex over-shadows the little Crooklands pub and two caravan parks are nearby.
Over the little bridge across the road from the pub is where I used to go fishing in the canal as a boy. I used to head about 200 yards south down the bank of the canal to my fishing spot opposite the little stream, which flows, into the canal. I have written of this spot in my memoirs.
Things were much the same when I found my fishing spot once more but now the canal banks are tidied up and then the vegetation allowed to return and grow up to form a long shield between the canal path and the waters edge. Not very good for fishing now with the long stalks of the growth getting in the way particularly the Nettles which are now allowed to grow freely whereas before they were mown to keep them in check.
Returning to Kendal and we went to the Library and checked for any Emails and sent one or two. Then round the shops and the market... Tuesday is still Market Day in Kendal. We visited the marketplace café? Near to the High Street, more stairs for Pat to climb. I had my inevitable soup and toast. I'm sure Pat had something different.
Later after an early dinner we returned to Cragg Farm and here in the lounge we met another visitor. An American aged mid or late 30s travelling on his own and staying in Kendal for a few days. He told me he normally resided down in the Caribbean crewing on pleasure yachts but he was here in Kendal to trace his ancestors who originated from this area. Spending each day in the County research files, each evening he wrote up his findings on his small laptop. His research was quite successfully he told me, and the staff was most helpful pointing him in the right direction
Sunday, June 01, 2003
Day 38. Monday 02 June 2003. Short Run to Kendal
We had a late breakfast 8.30 a.m. without too many people in the dining area but a group were gathering in the bar area. Enquiring we learnt it was an insurance firm financial seminar for the long weekend. Most looked bored with life. I would too if I had to give up my Bank holiday weekend.
Breakfast was help you self to everything with no limits and toast your own to your tastes on a fast commercial toaster. There was a wide variety so we tucked in to last the day. We didn't hurry to leave and when we did I stayed in the left hand lane of the M6 and took it easy sight-seeing. Suddenly we seemed to be in a lane about to leave the M6. I looked around frantically we were entering the M25, we were going to Blackpool! There was traffic coming up behind me in the lane which I should have moved in to earlier. All I could do was either drive onto the M6 "no mans land" or keeping going towards Blackpool on the M25.
We kept on in the direction of Blackpool. Now what? After a few miles the M25 petered out into a dual carriageway and here it was a friendly looking round-a-bout and we retraced our steps back to the M6. Now I was all attention again and a lesson learnt... eyes on the road whilst driving, inattention leads to trouble even in light traffic. So we bowled along back on the M6 and soon we were getting close to Kendal and our off ramp at Junction 37.
A mile or two before the junction we came upon an accident, it must have just happened moments before we arrived. A car towing a caravan appeared to have jack-knifed and the caravan was on its side in the inner lane. Suddenly all lanes were full of traffic and we were in the inner lane with other cars and hemmed in. Putting on our blinker and in moments there was a gap in the traffic, some kind soul let us into the middle lane.
Just down the road from the off ramp was our B&B at Cragg Farm so we called in to drop our our bags off and renew our acquaintance with Olive Knowles. We were shown up to the room which Ian, Anthony and Gillian stayed in on our previous visit. It was still only late morning so we then headed down into Kendal on this fine sunny day.
We spent the early afternoon in Kendal window shopping and and lunch remarking how the old town hadn,t changed at all since our last visit 3 years ago. Later in the afternoon we made our way up to see Cathy and Verd for high tea and Kitkat bars. Afterwards we talked of old times and the present and thhe evening wore on.
Then we headed back to Cragg Farm and watched TV for a while in the lounge and then off to bed.
Saturday, May 31, 2003
Day 37. Sunday 01 June 2003. Up the Motorway Again
We left Cricklade mid morning on our northern journey. First we had to head for the M5 motorway via the A419 and then A417 busy dual carriageways linking the M5 and M4 motorways. The A417 was for much of the way pencil-line straight following the Ermin Way, an old Roman road along the Cotswold Hills hilltops. We could see glimpses of the M5 from here in the valley below. Descending the Cotswolds we could see the M% ahead of us, miles in the distance.
My heart was in my mouth a little; I had not driven on the UK motorways before but in the distance the M5 traffic seemed to be light, a good sign. As we approached the M5 clear signs told us to get into the left-hand lane and then suddenly we were on the Motorway and heading north. Just like in NZ.
This was a good day to get used to the motorway signs and procedures it was a Bank Holiday Sunday and not too much heavy traffic. We covered the miles quickly even though we stayed mostly in the left hand lane and we decided we would stop for the night at Charnock Richard just south of Preston and not too far from Jen and Pete in Oswaldtwistle.
As we moved up the M5 we came to the busy junction of the M5-M6 and we managed to navigate the increase in traffic ok. Then came the Manchester major works and our lane was shunted over into the outer southbound lane. Soon we were at Charnock Richard in the early afternoon.
The accommodation L-shaped block was 2 storey set in a large park-like setting well away from the motorway and the Services building so it was reasonably quiet. It reminded me of a typical older NZ motor inn motel as copied from Australia and USA ones. There were about 40 cars and 2 buses in the car park but many more next morning. We had our evening meal here and breakfast next morning. The evening meal was quite good and more than enough of everything. Breakfast was the same and was help you to everything with no limits. The motel prices were on weekend special 35 pounds per room and a futher good special for 3 nights pay for 2 only at the special rates.
The room was warm and the bed a little hard. We went to bed early. The day had been hot and humid with a haze.
Friday, May 30, 2003
Day 36. Saturday 31 May 2003. Trip Preparations
Vicky and Ian left for Usk today and then on to Peter and Joan's party. Was it the wedding of Matty their son? Even Pat's prodigious memory was not sure now as I write this. They wished us goodbye, we would not see them for a while. Tomorrow we leave for our second expedition up north.
In the afternoon we went up to the supermarket near Cirencester for a few bits and pieces to take with us tomorrow and top up with petrol from the attached gas station. We fumbled with the self service petrol hose and then the assistant waved ok from office. We noticed we were missing the petrol cap from the tank, lost probably at the last fill up.
Enquiring at the office the helpful assistant asked "the red Mira" and we said "yes". She pulled a box of odd caps from under the counter, rummaging around then pulled out a black coloured rubber cap and said "this one will fit". Looking in askance she said "I had a Mira like that, it will fit" I asked her how much and she said "on the house, we often pick up lost caps".
I'm getting well used to the little red Mira now.
That evening we watered the garden for Vicky and Ian and also the next door neighbours at No. 3, Richard and Stephanie. They had asked Vicky if she could oblige, they were going away for the weekend too. I volunteered my services.
That evening we decided to have an Indian take-away. Pat came back with the ordered dishes. The order was mixed up and some were missing. In disgust we decided to have something light and tossed the Indian mix up in the bin. We couldn't be bothered to shout down the phone, demand and wait for a replacement.
Hot and humid today, again 26C.
Thursday, May 29, 2003
Day 35. Friday 30 May 2003. Burford Manor
Today Vicky asked if we would like to have a look around Burford Manor, a National Trust property in Oxfordshire. Burford lay to the northeast of Cricklade just over the border into Oxfordshire. Vicky soon whizzed us there in her car and I noticed the fitted temperature gauge told us it was to be a hot day.
When we were in Usk for the wedding my brother John his wife Edith had loaned us their National Trust cards to give us free entry to trust properties, so we decided to put them to good use. Pat was a little nervous using someone else's card, thinking we may have to show identity and maybe thrown in the dungeons for misrepresentation or something worse. So I took charge of both cards and flashed them both to the pay booth attendant and wished her a pleasant "Good morning" and she waved us through. Vicky followed showing her card too.
Vicky had been here before and she led us through the pleasant walled gardens explaining things as we went along. She then led the way slowly to the Manor house up on the high ground and we stopped a couple of times for me to catch my breathe and Pat to cool herself on the beginnings of this hot day.
The present owner gave Burford Manor and its lands to the National Trust some time ago and still continues to reside in one wing of the manor house. He also acts as general manager of the Manor lands for the National Trust and under his stewardship show a healthy bank balance for the Trust.
The Manor frontage was impressive with a set of wide steps leading to the front entrance to this house of formal Italian architecture. After viewing the house Vicky led us slowly down to the lake below through mature trees by way of a number of stepped long rectangular concrete and slab ponds. The stepped ponds down to the lake were an impressive sight from the top but now looking sparse and a little bare. No doubt they used to be lily ponds once.
Coming back up the hill through the greenery of shrubs and small trees was hot work and we sat for a while resting. Going past the manor house we reversed our steps through the gardens and to the entrance where there was a small café. Sitting down we then started to really feel the heat of the day. Pat quickly downed some cold liquid refreshment and we then had afternoon tea.
Leaving Burford we headed back to Cricklade stopping at Lechlade on the way. Here Vicky directed us to a lovely old church under internal restoration. How beautifully cool inside, I'm sure Pat was most thankful of this. Noting Vicky's car temperature gauge in the car, the outside temperature was registering 26C. And humidity with it.
During the day I noticed my leg was giving trouble, had I twisted it again? That evening the pain increased so I took some tablets and went to bed early.
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
Day 34. Thursday 29 May 2003. Another Quiet Day
Vicky returns from Usk today.
We tried out the Nissen Mira on the dual carriageway , the A319 to Cirencester (and here) for the first time today. We had been out on the by roads previously in the vicinity of Cricklade getting used to the small car with manual gears and no power steering and small wheel lock and the steering column sticks on the "wrong" side. We went up to the supermarket only, not into the hurley burley of the Cirencester streets.
We went round the large roundabout twice to decide which road was which. It seemed there were signs everywhere, trying to read them and figure which was yours and watch the fast traffic was daunting. Driving is much different here to NZ and will take a bit of getting used to.
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
Day 32 and 33. Tuesday and Wednesday 27-28 May 2003. Lay Days
On Tuesday we just had a quiet day and did nothing but laze in sunshine. Come Wednesday we first cleaned the house and vacuumed through until everything was spic and span for Vicky's homecoming on Thursday.
Then I lazed in the sun again and spent most of my time reading and watching the planes leave their vapour trails in the sky.
Many planes presumably from Heathrow were flying not too high in and northeasterly direction and presumably to the eastern USA and Canada on this path. On the same compass bearing planes were flying very high indeed but in the opposite direction to-wards the south east and presuming again going to southern Europe from the USA and Canada.
Occasionally I would see planes flying high on a northeast to southwest direction and thought these planes might be from the Scandinavia flying to the Caribbean and South America areas.
Air traffic was very busy over Cricklade especially in the mornings, planes coming in a steady stream and when they produced vapour trails were easy to spot.
There were a number of RAF airbases in the vicinity of Cricklade, the 2 main ones are Fairford and Lyneham and both bases handle large transport planes as well. Fairford has the longest runway in the British Isles. This base is the backup for the American space shuttle in case its home at Edwards Air-force Base is closed by weather. Periodically I could hear a mighty roar as unseen aircraft took off, probably from Fairford.
The Concorde is due over this week on a low show flight, the last flight I think. As I sat reading my book I could hear a loud roar building up but I could not see anything. I thought as I looked around that it could not be anything else than the Concorde probably to the south of us to-wards Swindon.
The weather is getting warmer now and with it humidity, the sky pale blue from the haze.
