Easingwold - Part III

This is my final post about our last weekend of freedom before life changed so drastically. We were attending the Long Distance Walkers' Association AGM. They are good at finding inexpensive and interesting accommodation, in my experience. This year we were at the Cabinet Office's Emergency Planning College, an odd arrangement of old and modern that one often finds here in Britain. I never did explore the area much given the short time we were there, but we pulled into an estate called The Hawkhills, checked in at a rather grand building and were housed across the car park in a somewhat modern building, using a card for entry at multiple points.

I'd heard of this Emergency Planning College from a former college who worked in ... emergency planning, a former ambulance driver. His job was to represent the health service at meetings of police, fire and ambulance types to plan what to do in the event of major catastrophes like bombs, chemical accidents and ... pandemics. I was rather gratified to see the place for myself even if it was 12 + years after my retirement.

The reception and meeting rooms are in this building

We were given a room for disabled people which while not very attractive probably did have the advantage of more space. Neither of us were excited about the wet room arrangement, but it turned out this was inflicted on everyone. The closet space was pretty generous, but the hangers were as usual scant. However, the kettle and the hair dryer worked fine, the bed was comfy and the view from the window quite pleasant and private.

The view from our room - and the window was quite large. 

As I said at the beginning I had my doubts about coming to this gathering and there was the odd hint of something different, mainly large pump bottles of hand sanitiser at the front desk and in the dining hall above where you picked up a tray at the buffet.

It took me many shots to get a sideways view of this bird, a pheasant, I believe.

On Saturday night there was a speaker, a mechanical engineer who had served on nuclear submarines for a couple of decades but, retired from that, now led groups on mountain walks and travelled the world. He began his talk saying it was be about motivation and change, which interested me, but it ended up being more about submarines and walking, which he felt would more interest his main audience - I had a brief chat with him on our way to our respective cars. The main thing I remember was that the LDWA president greeted him with an elbow knock, which made everyone laugh nervously, before introducing him. Of course there was no social distancing at that point as the concept was yet to be introduced.

Just past reception, notice board on right, heading to the dining hall.

Elbow bumping clearly wasn't going to take off very quickly, though. On Sunday morning I sat knitting in reception waiting for the official business meeting to end. I noticed a young couple arrive and be greeted by the staff with handshakes all around. I suppose old habits die hard. 

No idea what was upstairs. Likely too grand for the likes of us.

Before sitting down to knit, I looked over the bulletin board showing courses to be held in the next week (I rather doubt they were). I considered the coming pandemic and had the ridiculous thought that it was about time we had a real event instead of just a bunch of boys (because they are mostly men) running around 'practicing'. At least the training might be put to use, though judging from the government's performance to date, they didn't train the right people. 

Even Bill remarked on the oddity of a fireplace in a hallway.

Apparently there is an even grander building somewhere on the grounds which I never saw. There was the occasional reference to 'the Love family' who were in coal mining in County Durham, whereas The Hawkhills is located in North Yorkshire, which is just south of County Durham (which is just south of Northumberland, except that in 1974 they invented a new county called Tyne & Wear, but lots of people ignore it - North of the Tyne is Northumberland, south of it is Durham). People would mention this other building and 'the Love family', and Bill knew they were in coal mining in Durham.

I believe behind this grand window is the kitchen - which produces excellent food.

It took me a while to find anything about this Love family other than a Mrs. Katherine Love had a cottage hospital built on the grounds in 1893, but couldn't find anything else about her. I did find a mining history website that linked the name Joseph Horatio Love with Brancepeth Colliery in County Durham. I was astonished to read the the colliery opened in 1840 and didn't close until 1967. With a male name I eventually found this great website, which I gather is a collaboration between universities. It indicates that Durham University has 2 boxes containing 107 items to do with the Love, Pearson, Ferens and Marshall families. 

Another mysterious - and rather twirly - staircase.

Part of the description includes: 

"Joseph Love (1796-1875), son of William Love, a miner of New York, near South Shields, County Durham - they are wrong, New York is near North Shields, Northumberland - married in 1825 Sarah, daughter of Isaac Pearson, timber merchant, of North Shields, Northumberland. Joseph Love became a wealthy miller, shipowner, property developer and colliery owner, associated in particular with Chester-le-Strett, Shincliffe and Willington, County Durham and Durham City. He was a generous supporter of the Methodist New Connexion.
Joseph and Sarah Love had one son, Isaac Pearson Love, who died in 1854, leaving an only child Joseph Horatio Love, born in 1853, who subsequently lived at The Hawkhills near Easingwold, Yorkshire. Isaac Pearson Love's widow Sarah (nee Stephinson) in ca. 1857 married Robinson Ferens (died 1892), originally a draper of Durham City and Willington, County Durham. Robinson Ferens became a member of the Methodist New Connextion perhaps in ca. 1857. After his marriage he was appointed manager of Joseph Love's collieries. He later joined with Love as a partner in developing new collieries and after Love's death in 1875 had sole direction of the collieries, becoming wealthy."

Several such rooms extended from the one with the buffet.

Just goes to show how marrying well can change one's fortunes. Almost makes me want to go down one day and find out how the Marshall's tied into the story.  

A little porch where I had my breakfasts when Bill was off walking.

Better yet, I'd love to return to Easingwold and explore further. 

Easingwold - Part II

Though the centre of Easingwold isn't very big at all, they kindly provided signs directing me to the Tourist Information Centre. There I met a very friendly lady who rattled off all the places she thought worth seeing. She was fairly modest about the place, it had no 'great' sights, but lots of 'moderate' ones (my words, not hers). She gave me a map of streets and circled a few places. [Note, the photos were somehow removed from the blog, so I've replaced them...mostly at the bottom. Will check back later to see if they remain.]

The village green. It wouldn't really be a village without it. Though,
properly speaking, Easingwold is a Market Town.

She even knew the 'best' charity shop, right next door. So to St. Leonard's I went. They had a delicious display of scarves in the window, several of which were silk. For £1 each I bought any that fit into my colour scheme (cool, light, muted). I have now filled the pink gap in my scarf collection. Then I saw a lush piece of moss green chenille, probably something suitable for upholstery but for £3 it was irresistible. I was to regret that rather heavy purchase later in the day. 

I know I got a grey t-shirt and a blue silk sweater and another grey blue scarf plus some beaded necklaces and bracelets (more for the beads than the bracelet) and a very small book on home interiors by the lady who runs the White Shop for 50p. I spent just over £17 and filled two bags. Bad move at the beginning of the visit, but the shop wasn't open all day. 

Another place the tourist centre mentioned was on the other side of them, a community hall holding a fair to raise money for the burned animals of Australia. I didn't see anything I wanted, it seemed mainly aimed at children, but then I did find a gym bag for £3, only I gave her £5, saying my sister-in-law lives in Sydney. That made carrying my charity haul much easier, though I wished I not brought my handbag. 

After that I found The Regency Dress Agency. I wasn't feeling particularly 'elegant' by then, but I was determined to find anything worth having. The prices were of course higher but then this wasn't a charity shop and the merchandise was of a consistently higher quality. I looked at every single thing in the shop and came away with several tops, a dress and a pair of shoes. The best part was that the lady behind the desk was easy to chat with. I could easily have spent several more hours visiting with her. She recommended a tea shop across the square, which was also one that the tourist info lady mentioned.



On the way I found a boutique - I'd tell you the name, but I can't find it anywhere on the internet and Google maps doesn't go down the little alley towards Market Place, darn! - with a pair of grey jeans in the window, something for which I've been searching for over a year now. So in I went. 


Also, I wanted some silver earrings as I'd forgotten to put any on Friday morning and had also come away without my jewellery pouch. One feels naked without earrings these days. I found earrings and two pairs of grey trousers/jeans, very modern stretchy ones. They don't fit into my natural fibres goal, but they took me a long way toward my goal for lightening the colours in my wardrobe. I doubt there was one other thing in the whole shop I'd be seen in, though. I think a lot of modern clothes are ridiculous, that's how old fashioned I am.


I was desperate for some refreshment by then so on to the Tea Hee Shop I went (I remembered it as Tea Pee, shows how my mind works). I had just settled with all my various bags when I realised I'd left my handbag somewhere. It didn't have anything valuable in it, but a collection of small things that fit into a small bag. I gathered up all my shopping bags and re-traced my steps. It was nice to see the lady at the dress agency again and there sat my handbag, unnoticed in a corner. 

Back to the tea shop where I inhaled a pot of tea and a bottle of water while perusing the home decorating book. Then I pulled out the map and braced myself for a long walk carrying lots of bags. I still wanted to see the Georgian houses and so wondered in the opposite direction of where we were staying for a short while, snapping photos along the way. 

Then I stopped to chat to a lady gardening in front of a Georgian house just off the Market Square, asking her to verify I was going in the right direction back to our digs. She studied my map so long I wondered if I'd found a tourist who couldn't resist improving the flower bed, but she eventually confirmed I was headed the right way. I stopped and bought a sandwich at the Co-op on my way out of town.

It was a long trudge with the gym bag slipping off my sloping shoulders and shopping bags cutting into my fingers, along a sometimes muddy, bramble-filled verge facing into racing traffic. My boots were definitely not made for walking, though they just lacked support, at least they didn't give me any blisters. 

I took a guess at the roundabout which had no sign whatsoever for the Emergency Planning College (a lack of planning in my opinion) which fortunately turned out to be correct. My sense of direction is slightly better than I get credit for having.

I had a lovely old green brooch on my collar which got damaged with my sling bags onto my shoulders and I was sad to have lost one of the green stones, glass though it likely was. To my amazement I later found it at the bottom of one of the shopping bags. How lucky is that? 

How convenient to have a phone box in your front garden! People would
always be able to find your house.

Easingwold - Part I

Everyone here seems to count the lock down from the 23rd of March, when Boris was very firm and very specific. But I count it from the 16th, when our WI craft group was cancelled because of his announcement about staying home and not gathering, made at 17.26. I went to the church, a few minutes' walk, to check that none of our members had missed the cancellation email and was surprised to find a meditation group in our usual meeting room and a business meeting down the hall. Then again, Bill had left at 5 to go to the running club.

Since I was out anyhow I nipped into the Co-op and bought fresh fruit and veg, a bottle of wine and a pizza for when he came home. I saw my neighbour, Dave, there and he was bemoaning the lack of paracetamol anywhere. I commiserated as Bill and I had searched North Shields that day for any hand sanitiser or paracetamol or even hand washing liquid (Bill's preference, I like bars) and came up with only some strange dissolving paracetamol tablets (that taste awful). I've not been in - or even to - a shop since.

But this is about Easingwold, where we'd just been the previous weekend, attending the Annual General Meeting (another phrase I never met until coming to Britain) of the Long Distance Walkers' Association. I had misgivings about going, but I knew Bill would go without me. If there was anything being passed around there he'd just bring it home and I'd spend the weekend worrying, so I went. I'm so glad I did.

Not only was it our last taste of freedom, but I met a different set of people this time, people who were great conversationalists and they always seemed to remember my name! Also, I got to know some of Bill's walking buddies a bit better. As usual the food was pretty good and definitely plentiful. Our digs were unusual. We were staying at the Cabinet Office's Emergency Planning College, which somehow seemed appropriate. 

We arrived on Friday afternoon and there was a series of walks of varying lengths planned for Saturday morning, one of which Bill planned to do. I could have taken a coach trip to York with a bunch of the other wives, but I've been to York quite a bit. I'd investigated charity shops at Easingwold and nearby villages online and when a gentleman at the front desk recommended Easingwold I was set. He described it as a 'lovely little village full of Georgian houses, clever little boutique shops, great charity shops and wonderful teashops'. Who wouldn't be sold? 

I decided that since it was only 2 miles to the village I would walk as parking cars can sometimes be complicated. Besides I'd had a large dinner the night before that needed addressing. The 2 mile route was on a main road without a place for pedestrians, though. I asked for and received a map of the area and saw that there was a short cut across fields, but did I dare? Another gentleman suggested that their walk would begin along that exact route and that I could accompany them to the village and then go my own way. So I did.

I was trying to notice markers so I could get back the same way. We went across a very bumpy field, then over a stile into a smooth field. We went across at an angle to another stile and then along a fence to two stiles, one right after the other. Then we went through a gate...and then I don't know what all. We were in the village. Much as I tried turning around to see how it would look on the return I was pretty certain I'd be coming back along the main road. 

The original - it was a big field! I do so love the lacey trees.

I had a lively conversation from a retired medic originally from Ireland, County Mayo. He had a lot to say about 'caring' as well as 'curing', which I found quite refreshing. I got some insight into why people might spend hours and hours each week wondering around together in all sorts of weathers.

There were no women on this walk, or if there were they were at the front. I chatted with a couple of men designated as 'sweepers'. The back group found my attire quite amusing, though they described it as 'elegant', which of course was ludicrous. One of them even asked to take my photo, saying I should be on the cover of Strider Magazine as the 'best dressed walker'. I thought he was crackers but I agreed to a picture. It hasn't appeared on Strider, but it did show up on the LDWA Facebook page.

My cropped version.