The Reason We Went

When I told Bill what I'd been doing all morning (writing that last post) and I explained about the three posts concerning our trip to Easingwold, he asked if I had this photo (which I didn't). He pointed out I'd not mentioned the whole reason we went. Which was so Bill could hand over as the coordinator for Northumberland to the next area that is supposed to organise a 100-mile walk, South Wales. I understand they were well underway to doing this planning, including having a garage full of food. That food has since been donated to the local food bank.

That's Bill on the left.

I'm really glad that Bill just organising and assists with 100's, he doesn't attempt to do them. However, one of the guys in this photo did the marshal's walk in Northumberland last year and made a pretty neat video of it, showcasing Northumberland. The weather was much kinder to the marshals than to the actual walkers the next week, but you takes your chances with these things.

David's video is pretty wonderful, I thought, not to mention a decent soundtrack. 

Alnmouth - Part II

So, we went for a walk on the beach. I was surprised at the view at the bottom of the street. I guess I just hadn't looked in that direction.

There were a number of interesting things to look at on our walk. For one I saw the other side of some of the houses I'd been admiring. It seemed we actually came out on the River Aln estuary at low tide. Then we turned and walked north along the sea front. This was familiar territory owing to a number of days out either having done or not done the Coastal race. (I recommend not unless you are extremely fit, and maybe not even then). 

I don't think I'd ever wandered south to the river, being keen to get changed, fed and head to the pub. Bill teased me it was the first time I'd seen Alnmouth village sober but to be fair there really wasn't anything else to do, everything being closed on Sunday the day of the race. And we always took the bus so you had to stick with the crowd so as not to miss the bus back home. That's my side of the story anyhow. 

Pardon me while I reminisce...

I still remember I'd only been in the running club a few days (this is 22 years ago) when I was offered this day out. I rode up to Beadnall on the bus sitting next to a woman who never stopped talking the whole way. It certainly passed the time, listening to her. Noreen has written plays since that day that are performed in theatres all around this area. I wouldn't have predicted that at the time, but I did appreciate her friendliness. I only had the barest of acquaintance with a few of the people on that bus. The whole 'friendliness' thing is one of the ways in which I tend to compare Newcastle with Oklahoma: coal mining history, folks pass through on their way to somewhere else, people are really friendly.

A nice young guy spent time walking on the beach with me, Dave, who happened to work in the lab next to my office, as we waited for the runners to finish so we could get on with the social part. He was injured and so not running. Bill and I eventually went to Dave's wedding and helped him move into their new house. He gave us a wardrobe he no longer wanted, which is still in use today. Dave and Ruth's kids are teenagers now and he still runs.

Anyhow, on this day in February of this year I saw a large cross on a hill across the river. I had no idea what it was, nor did Bill. Turns out it is St. Cuthbert's cross (a replica, not the original) and this is said to be the location where Cuthbert agreed to become Bishop of Lindisfarne when petitioned by the king, that would have been Edwin of Northumbria. Note to self: must go back to Holy Island one day...it's only about 1 1/2 hours away after all.

Now, I must admit that I'd never heard of Cuthbert or Lindisfarne before I came to live in the North of England, but I had heard of the Book of Kells. If you've never heard of Lindisfarne but you have heard of the Book of Kells, then I would invite you take a moment to enjoy the Lindisfarne Gospels. These books are old. I've been fortunate enough to see the Book of Kells in Dublin at Trinity College - it is gorgeous. I read that the Gospels are at the British Library in London. I think I'd rather go up to Holy Island, actually.

Annoying spot on my camera lens, only comes up now and then. V. annoying that.

What else did I see? That upstairs conservatory that I admired from our window was pretty funny from the other direction. It would appear that it directly overlooks the chimney of the house just behind. Such is life at the sea front, I suppose.

I really do love moss. If you'd grown up in a place where everything goes brown and crackly in summertime you'd understand why.

We had a spectacular day for beach walking. I found quite a bit of large lumps of sea coal. I just finished one in the series of Shipyard Girls novels (which I recommend) and one of the characters talks about collecting sea coal as a child. It is a poorer quality, being soaked with sea water, and I gather it 'spits' a lot.

Then we turned off the beach and walked into the village, which had some things open for a change! One of the big houses on front street had an interesting collection in their front garden. I still haven't figured out what all that stuff is, never mind why.

I had seen the church steeple from our window and wondered about what looked like pigeon holes on it. I asked Bill and he said it was actually to allow people to hear the bells chiming. Well, of course.

We stopped by the house to pick up some food for the bairn (well, he's Scottish even if I'm not) before going to the Tea Cozy Cafe. While we were waiting, I took a photo of some moss on the wall (see above). 

There was something rather perfect in their presentation.

In spite of the rather twee name the food was quite good (I had a salad with too much goat's cheese; I didn't know that was possible) and Bill let me have a bit of his dessert. He used to hate sharing at all and I must say his training is coming along nicely. I only ever want a bite of anything sweet.





After this we went back to the house, packed up and came home. I had an important event to get ready for!

Alnmouth - Part I

Of course I have more photos than words, but I always manage to witter on, don't I? The place we stayed was up a little one-way lane called Garden something. The house had a name, Sunnybrae. You run into that term a lot here but I've never looked it up before coming to write this: brae means 'steep bank or hillside'. 

It was a lovely semi-detached house that still had the original stained glass windows, at least at the front. 

The front door.

The cupboard under the stairs; how ever did I manage to grow up without this hiding place? Wait! There was one at Grandmother's house on 31st Street, with a glass door. I hadn't a deprived childhood after all.

In the downstairs hall.

My favourite feature of our room (apart from the en suite loo).

The house next door had modern PVC windows and suffered in comparison. 

My other favourite feature: genuinely old.

We had part of a flat, I'm guessing. We were upstairs and there was a second door that looked to open into more than the two bedrooms we were using. This sort of arrangement doesn't seem to be uncommon.

Ignore the dishes, they got done. Sarah always manages to have flowers.

I was selective in the photos I took of the house. 

View from our room.

Had to zoom in on that dragon weathervane!

Sarah apologised for the disorder, but since Bill and I manage to destroy any hotel room within 15 minutes of arrival I couldn't complain. 

One of the main reasons to visit.

Being tidy on holiday with an 11-month-old baby (who is teething and a little bit grumpy) isn't everyone's priority. It's not really even mine with a 70-year-old, but I do get picky about disarray in the motor home as I get sick of stepping over stuff left out. 

The living room - loved the leather sofas and that window seat.

View out the back. That skeletal structure on the back of the house is the conservatory, with a view of the river, the fields, and possibly the sea.

A gas fire, but nice all the same.

Bill said the house has been 'sympathetically' renovated. I guess he is right since it still had an olde-house feel with loads of features to enjoy. Of course I liked the views out of the windows. I'm always up for snooping at what other people have. 

As I said, food was a major feature of this visit. After a sizeable burger at Barter Books (minus one side of the bun) we had chilli and rice for dinner as well as dessert. It was some kind of tart with vanilla custard (from Aldi) on it. I wasn't happy to learn that Aldi carried such wicked stuff. We played a very competitive game of Uno after dinner, which I really enjoyed. Bill hates playing cards with me, claiming it isn't as much fun with just two people. He might be right about that - or he may just get tired of getting beat. I've played a lot of gin and rummy in my time as well as spades and hearts and a little bit of bridge. I shuffle the deck like a pro, which I figure is only fair. I didn't win, forgetting I was to say 'Uno' and having to pick up more cards than I could hold well in my hand. It was fun all the same. 

Grandad time!

I fnd myself increasingly reluctant to leave my own home and go visiting, but our visits with Sarah, Gareth and Struan seem to turn out to be very relaxing. 

Alnwick

We found our way to the place Sarah and Gareth had rented for a week in Alnmouth. We were only going to be there one night but we managed to fill two days quite well, mostly with food. 

After stowing our gear and packing up baby supplies we headed off to Barter Books (in Alnwick, yes I have that right). I've written about this place before - yikes, 10 years ago! What has changed is that the entry area which used to 'only' have a coffee spot (with honesty box) and a coal burning fire now is filled with shelves of books. As usual, I forgot to look through this section, forgot it was there, until we were leaving.

The main change is that they 'found' another room that has become their cafe. Now, it looks like a series of rooms to me, as they are all tiled in different colours and about every other one has its own fireplace. The food is pretty decent as well but it is a busy place. You may have to queue for a table then queue to order. If you are on your own or with small children you may find it difficult to hold down a table. It's that sort of busy.

I knew I had photos from the last visit here, with my friend Pat, so I didn't snap any. Neither did I find any books I wanted which was a surprise (and a relief). I did photograph the Percy Lion across the road while waiting for Struan's pram to be unfolded and filled up. 

You can always tell the Percy Lion from any other because the tail sticks straight out at the back; I've never been able to decide if this is wildly impressive or just ludicrous.

The Percy name is all over this area, probably all over Britain. The Percy's are the family who live in Alnwick Castle and own a great deal of land around here. My house is built on land once owned by the Duke of Northumberland (but I own it now, freehold). Many properties are terms 'leasehold' and you pay a 'peppercorn rent' for the land. I expect it all adds up, however, and a buyer of a leasehold property will want to look at the period remaining on the lease, usually arranged for something like 99 years at a time. I excluded any leasehold properties when I was searching, just because I didn't want the extra complication. 

I have just got lost in reading about the Percy's over on Wikipedia. They are firmly entrenched in British history of course. Two that I have run across in my reading are Henry Percy, the sixth Earl of Northumberland was the accepted suitor of Anne Boleyn before Henry the VIIIth spotted her. Another Henry, 9th Earl of Northumberland, spent 16 years in the Tower of London, having been implicated in the Gunpowder Plot to overthrow James I. The real culprit was a Percy cousin, Thomas Percy, who was killed in his flight from the Sheriff and whose head was displayed outside Parliament. I was pleased to see that this Henry was born at Tynemouth Castle, where his father was governor. 

They must have found a way back into royal favour in spite of remaining Catholic, probably during the English Civil War, as they were promoted from Earls to Dukes. The present Duke of Northumberland, Ralph (12th Duke), was born in the same year as I was. His wife is known for creating Alnwick Garden, as much a tourist site as the Castle (which is not part of the National Trust). The Garden is, I gather, a charity in itself (I've always said that charity in Britain is Big Business). Apparently its creation caused quite a bit of turmoil. Loads of info in this article. Interesting stuff, but somehow I don't think her garden will be remembered as one of the major accomplishments of the Percy line. There were reportedly seven historic gardens discovered and destroyed in the making of the new which makes me think it will have a limited lifespan. Must get up there this summer when everything is in bloom!

Warkworth

We had the honour of being invited by Sarah and Gareth to join them at a holiday let in Alnmouth for a bit. Correct me if in future I say Alnwick, I seem to get the two confused. Alnwick is the location of the famous Harry Potter flying lesson location of Alnwick Castle. I've visited the gardens there once, but not on a day when the Castle was open to tour. Must do that one day. It's not that far away, only about an hour perhaps.

Alnmouth is the place where the River Aln enters the North Sea. Also the finish of the dastardly 14(or so)-mile Coastal Race from Beadnall to Alnmouth (across three beaches and mileage varies with the tide table). But today I'm going to show you Warwick Warkworth (I get those two confused as well - both have castles I suppose)  from the car window anyhow.

I have attempted to snap this castle any number of times and am pleased to say I finally nailed it. I'll not mention how many dud photos I've deleted. 

I do have a talent for catching the moment when the tree/bush perfectly screens the object of interest. 

This aptitude requires burying one's camera strategically out of reach, having a knackered machine where pressing the button doesn't always work and also possessing the skill of knitting or crochet and thus being distracted.

There was a brilliant programme on the telly last week on BBC One about this place, touted as a 'perfect medieval village'. Sadly I didn't take notes so can't really tell you why it is so perfect - but you can kind of tell just by looking at it, right?

I do remember two things from the programme. One was about burgage plots, something I'd not met yet. I'll let you read about them. I quite envied people who had these, sort of like having your own allotment garden (maybe you should read about those as well). I think I've written about them before.

The other fun thing in the programme was that there was a row of houses that had extended back yards where livestock were raised, but with no rear exit, so the back door aligned directly with the front door and people ran the cattle through their hallway to remove the animals. 

I recall them saying the floors were on a downhill slope to aid in sluicing out any unwanted wastes... sounds really messy, eh? I wonder what sort of air freshener they used after market day.

I am doubtful that many cattle are reared by these homeowners these days, but I could be mistaken.
There was also something about the marketplace, the location of which is shown in the photo above, where the road divides. 

I'm thinking this is a day-out destination to add to the list!

I hadn't realised that a marketplace was such a special feature, it seems to me I run across them fairly frequently. Morpeth, South Shields and Barnard Castle all come to mind with ease. Perhaps the North is more blessed than elsewhere, just as Northumberland has so many brilliant castles?

Did I mention we got a new-to-us car in December? Not as racy as the last one, but quite comfortable and perhaps a bit more practical. I'm hoping it will be easier to take photos, though I didn't think to try this went I did the test drive. 

Warkworth Castle is a very picturesque ruin that I remember Bill's kids climbing all over on past visits. I've been a few other times with various friends and enjoyed exploring the quaint tearooms and the views from the bridge, probably all in the days prior to owning a digital camera. 

As I recall the views from that stone bridge are quite stunning.

I was pleased that this shot-across Bill's arms out the driver's side caught the lovely blue of the North Sea on this fine, sunny day. I can report that his jumper (pullover sweater) was almost exactly this same shade of blue.

Cragside Garden

I learned a new word as we walked through the woods to the stone garden to the greenhouse and the lawn that looked down on the village of Rothbury.

Pinetum (pI-NEAT-um) - a plantation of pine trees or other conifers planted for scientific or ornamental purposes.

Suffice it to say they had a few confirs dotted around the place.

The next surprise was that some mad gardening lady (Bill's term) was working at planting designs outside the greenhouse to match designs inside the house.



We spoke to one of the volunteers who explained the plan. As with a lady inside the house, once he got started talking it was hard to escape. I had the impression they all study quite hard to be well informed about the house or grounds and it must be frustrating to not have more opportunities to impart that knowledge. So I tried to be patient and to ask questions.



Actually, it was interesting (and a bit crazy) that they play with the designs in this garden all the time, planting different shapes in keeping with various themes; for example, planting the Olympic rings the year the games were in London.





In the greenhouse I spotted some lovely soft fern that turned out to be fennel. I don't care for it as food, but I do love fern in a floral arrangement.




Mom used to have a bed of what she called asparagus fern. 





There was never any food, sadly, but plenty of beautiful, soft, feathery fronds.





I snapped this photo of an iris also because Mom grew loads of them at the house where I grew up.

Bill and I were both taken with this strange coloured rose.




We had a wander around the sweet little bell tower, then headed for the car. I bet we walked several miles that day!