Hever Castle has been on my to-go-to list ever since I discovered how close it is to where I (and now we) live. The Tudor period is probably one of the areas of English history I know the most about, so the thought of visiting Hever Castle, home of Anne Boleyn - the second wife of Henry VIII and the woman who helped encourage him to break with the Catholic Church - was very exciting for me. As you may know by now, one of the many things I love about living in England is being able to stand in the places that I have read about and studied in school.
Hever station is only a short train ride from where we live - about forty or fifty minutes direct from London Bridge - and from the station it's a relatively short, easy walk to the castle. It takes a little over ten minutes if you take the public footpath through a couple of fields (make sure you don't mind dodging sheep and their poop), or about twenty minutes if you walk along the roads, though there are no pavements and the roads are fairly narrow. Trains along the London - Hever route ran hourly, making it a very easy day trip for us. Hever Castle also did not disappoint. I'd read about it's award-winning gardens and then, of course, there's the historical side, but there was actually a lot more to keep us busy that I expected. The first thing we did after buying our tickets (only £16.75 each) was to walk through the Kent and Sharpshooters Yeomanry Military Museum. It's a tiny little building immediately by the entrance - hard to miss thanks to the tank parked outside and the delicate red poppies growing along the outside of the building. The Castle is much smaller than I expected, only a portion of the main building open to the public. Still, there was enough to see: exhibits ranged from the Boleyn's story, both the improvements Anne's father and grandfather made to the castle, and a bit about Anne and Henry's courtship, to the various films that used the castle as a site and setting, right the way to the Astors, the American family who bought Hever Castle in 1903 and spent $10 million restoring it. Some of the rest of the Castle and outer buildings have been converted into luxury accommodation, as apparently Hever is also a wedding and event venue. There was actually a wedding reception at the castle that afternoon, down by the lake. Sean and I scoped it out before they closed it to the public, and it would make for a stunning venue though probably a horrendously expensive one.
The lake is actually where we made our way after the Castle, having paused briefly to have some of our picnic. We went through their Italian garden, where Sean told me he would patiently walk slowly while I took all the photos I wanted, and came down to the portico where they were setting up for the wedding and also where they had rowing boats and pedalos for hire. We then wound our way back up to the main castle via the rose gardens.
Sean was particularly excited to try the mazes. The water maze was our favourite. Though it was completely open, the aim was to reach the tower in the middle without getting wet and there was only one dry route through the maze. So Sean and I channeled our inner Indiana Jones and negotiated the slick paving stones between the little streams, dodging water jets and pretending to step on the pressure blocks just as the other was stepping over the fountain spouts. Children in bathing suits dodged around us, delighting in getting wet. One generous boy was pointing out all the bits we wanted to avoid if we didn't want to get wet, and showed us how to avoid tripping the jets on a few of the bridges. We made it to the middle dry, but Sean insisted we do it again since we had technically cheated and not actually found the dry route through the maze. It was a lot of fun. The second one, a 100 year-old yew hedge maze - was much more straightforward. I think we only dead-ended twice before we found our way to the middle. Definitely not like that time when I was sixteen and got lost in a corn maze on Halloween. I'm not sure if that was just because this maze was smaller or because of Sean's better sense of direction. We did end up in a debate along the way over whether 'labyrinth' would be a more accurate name for the two puzzles. I thought both were technically labyrinths, because you were trying to get to the middle and not get to an exit. Sean argued that a maze had multiple routes, some of which dead end where a labyrinth has only one route you can follow. Does anyone know what the real difference between the two is? Let me know if you do!
Apart from the mazes, we went for a forty-minute walk around the lake, stopping at the Japanese tea house built over the water and at the two WWII pill boxes we saw along the route. We also paused to admire the gorgeous meadow flowers that were blooming everywhere and then again at the waterfall we passed, which had Sean clambering over tree roots and rocks to get as close as possible and me following and taking lots of photos of him (and the waterfall, of course. But mostly him.)
The afternoon wound down with the two of us finding a bench on a stepped patio with a stunning view of the castle and picking at what was left of our picnic lunch while he tried to explain to me what makes a castle a castle (given that Highclere Castle is not, apparently, actually a castle). If you think you have the answer to that one too, let me know in the comments! On the way out of the grounds, we did a quick walk-through the playgrounds, specifically the Tudor Towers playground, which is an enormous wooden castle with slides, ropes, nets, and swinging punching bags with knights painted on them. Sean and I lamented the fact that they didn't have those sorts of playgrounds when we were growing up, and we jokingly agreed that we'd have to bring his nephew with us when he was old enough to give us an excuse to play in the castle as well.
Another short walk through the sheep fields (and an unfortunate, painful brush with stinging nettles) and we were back at the train station, headed home. It was a fantastic way to spend a Monday, and a relatively inexpensive one as well. Weekends would have been better as they have jousting and archery demonstrations on Saturdays and Sundays during the summer months, but even without that it was still well worth the trip. Tags
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This year I seem to be making a habit of going along with a trip, with no specific idea of where I’m going, only to find that I’m consciously planning to go back to that same area about a week later. It happened over the Easter holiday, where a bus tour I had booked skirted the villages around Stratford-Upon-Avon instead of the originally advertised, more widespread locations, and then I made my way back up to Stratford-Upon-Avon a few days later for an overnight visit.
This past May holiday, it was the South Downs, an area of outstanding national beauty in the Souh towards the coast. It started with the celebrations for Sean's mum's birthday: his sisters organised a weekend in Chilgrove at a cottage in the middle of the woods in the Kingley Vale Nature Reserve. We had to drive along a deeply rutted and uneven dirt road that seemed to be taking us nowhere, twisting through heavy green trees until we finally came to the end of the road and the high, thick, rabbit and deer-proof gate that protected the 11th Century cottage (fortunately much renovated and modernised since then). It was a slow weekend, as there was not much to do in the area given that I am not insured to drive in England (or in Canada anymore, for that matter), but it was beautiful. There were multiple public footpaths and bridleways that spread, web-like, around the cottage, and the fields and woods surrounding us were home to roaming pairs of deer. Mostly we stayed in the enormous garden, though, reading, chatting, and entertaining Sean's toddler nephew. There were lots of games played, much sunning, and even more pastries eaten. We were all debating the relative merits of actually owning a cottage in the middle of nowhere and, while we all thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet, all agreed that we could not happily live in such a quiet retreat all year long. I think that's partly why the unexpected highlight of the weekend was our stop at Arundel Castle on the way home. We'd had enough of the silence of the woods and cottage and were ready to be doing something and surrounded by busy people again.
Why was it so unexpected? Well, because of rail replacement services, Sean and I had to catch our train home from Arundel rather than Chichester, and since Jackie and Jo were giving us a lift there anyway, the whole family detoured to visit the castle. It was only fifteen or twenty minutes by car, and well worth the visit. The best part for me was how excited Sean got, and the way all his stress and frustration seemed to dissipate as we entered the main castle and made our way to the original section and its battlements. As much as I love visiting castles for myself, I enjoy them doubly so because I get to watch Sean be excited and delighted.
We had a quick wander around some of the grounds as well, but since the others weren't quite as interested in touring the extensive castle and grounds, we cut it shorter than we would have otherwise, out of consideration for the fact that they all also still had a very long drive ahead of them. If we had gone on our own, we could very easily have spent an entire day there. When my summer holiday finally arrives (hopefully with the return of some of the twenty-plus sunshine that we had this past spring) I am considering hopping on the train back down to Arundel to explore the grounds and gardens much more thoroughly. There is so much else to see in England though, so we shall have to wait and see if I do, or if I decide to go somewhere new instead!
Now for the return visit:
Anneka and I had been talking for ages about booking a quiet country holiday, perhaps at a spa hotel, for a few days over the actual May half-term holiday. We decided to get together after work on the Monday following my weekend in Chilgrove and actually book something. Originally we were planning to head slightly north-west, and book somewhere in the Chiltern Hills, but when we were struggling to find somewhere we liked there, Anneka suggested the South Downs. We managed to find an excellent deal at Goodwood Hotel - we got full access to the spa facilities and gym at this four-star hotel, and a cooked breakfast both days, for less than we would have paid for an AirBnB! Goodwood was where I really, properly unwound and finally managed to switch off. Funnily enough, that's a very similar pattern to my double trip to the Cotswolds - the first visit I was still running on high stress mode but by the second I was completely relaxed. I think it probably helped that I was on school holidays for both of the second trips. In this case, the spa also helped - the sauna and steam room in particular softening all the physical tension, then the hot tub melting away the stress. It was wonderful to be out in the fresh air all day, wandering the parks and woods on the Goodwood estate, and then come back to the hotel and soak away any muscle stiffness. We had such good luck with the weather too - no rain! Just sunshine and balmy skies. The food and drink at the hotel was excellent too. Expensive, but tasty. We couldn't justify eating there all the time, given the cost, but if I could have sampled everything on their menu, I would have. And we didn't even go to the proper restaurant on the estate - just the hotel bar! We did go to the restaurant for drinks on the last night, and I really wish I had taken a photo of their cocktail menu. They were smooth as anything, and dangerously tasty. Again, if I could have afforded it I (and if my liver could have handled it) I would have sampled one of everything. The best cocktail I had was at The Kennels though. Funny story about the Kennels. Anneka and I couldn't find this mysterious bar anywhere on the estate. We could see it on the map, but the map wasn't very good (and neither Anneka or I are very good at reading maps to begin with) and the guy who we asked directions from wasn't very clear either. It was supposed to be a twenty minute walk from the entrance of the estate. Over an hour later, and having tramped through the ivy and rubbish on the side of a narrow road for nearly ten minutes, we finally stumbled into The Kennels. It turns out we'd passed it multiple times, but there seemed to be a wedding party outside so we assumed that couldn't be it! By the time we found the bar and ordered our drinks, we were laughing at ourselves for not having arrived significantly sooner. I had a ginger cosmo and Anneka had a glass of red wine that she is still fondly reminiscing about. I don't drink wine, so we'll have to take her word for it that it was truly excellent. Once again, this trip wasn't all about sightseeing. We had meant it to be days of country walks, and being healthy and gently active, but while we did have a few small walks of a couple miles it was much slower-paced than that. On the first full day there, we were planning to wander the Chichester Harbour area for the day, walking along beaches, through villages, and around the natural marina. We started at West Wittering beach but only got as far as East Head. We only stopped to read for a little while and eat our sandwiches but we ended up reading in the dunes for three hours. We watched the tide come in and gradually lift the boats that had been beached when we sat down before deciding that it was time to walk back and find ourselves a pub for some drinks and figure out what we were going to do for dinner. It was so refreshing to not have to worry about when and where we were going to be, and to not think about much except my book and good food. I did learn something surprising about myself though: I am not a spa person. I love going and having the massages and facials and other treatments, and I love using the hot tubs, steam rooms and so on. But to go to a spa for the day, without a treatment booked, is rather...boring. I had a book I was reading and enjoying, and I did enjoy using the facilities. But I was restless after a couple of hours. Something for me to remember next time I'm planning a spa break: make sure there's more to do than just the spa! Tags
Spring has arrived in England! The sun is out, the days are long, and there's a fresh bounce in everyone's step. Visiting the Cotswolds this past holiday was like taking an undiluted shot of spring vibrancy, leaving me zinging with energy and positive momentum.
The Cotswold is an 'Area of Outstanding National Beauty' in Oxfordshire, so named partly for the gentle rolling hills (wolds) that pop into your mind's eye when you think of rural England. Driving up from London on a coach, early Monday morning, I admired the variegated fields from my window, only half listening to the tour guide talking about the sheep farming industry and its effects on the area. Mostly I was basking in the warm sunlight pouring through the windows. The coach took us to Bampton, which some of you should remember from my blog about Jason and Renée's visit as a filming location for Downton Abbey. While the tour guide walked everyone into the hospital location and church, I wandered off on my own to explore some of the side streets and get some shots of the gorgeous spring flowers. All the villages we visited that day were absolutely bursting with tulips, daffodils, primroses, and fruit blossoms. It was stunning.
As we made our way towards Blenheim Palace, we stopped in Burford for lunch and took a detour to drive through Stow-on-the-Wold (not an easy feat for a 52-seater coach, let me tell you). The highlight of the day was definitely Blenheim Palace though, birthplace of Winston Churchill. It was an incredibly grand stately home, with sprawling grounds and beautiful ornamental gardens. The building itself was impressive, with an exhibit set up just off the library about Churchill's home life.
For all that it was a beautiful, peaceful day, I didn't manage to relax. I still struggled to switch off from my inner to-do list, and my mind was constantly churning over whether to continue with my Head of Year role in September, or let it go and take on only the Key Stage Coordinator. I was also going back and forth over whether or not to apply to Merchant Taylor's School and Berkhamsted School when I got back to London. None of this was fully conscious and I often found that I'd been thinking about both or either for a good twenty minutes or more before I was even aware of it. We also got caught in traffic coming back to London, so I had plenty of time to slip in and out of ruminating as I stared at the back and sides of the red double-deckers the surrounded us in stand-still streets.
The following Wednesday I took a train back up to the Cotswolds, this time making my way to Stratford upon Avon. I ignored the organised tours and made my own way around this town, and this time I actually managed to be present (at least most of the time). I had a full experience ticket from the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust, an Air BnB booked for the night, comfortable trainers, sunglasses, and a determination to actually unwind this time. As if to encourage me in my mission, the weather had taken a sharp upward turn and was even more gorgeous than Monday. Not only was it brightly sunny but it was also warm, with temperatures sitting comfortably in the mid-twenties. I spent most of my two days there in a T-shirt and, while walking the mile and a half back from Anne Hathaway's Cottage, wished I had shorts rather than jeans. While the weather played a role in my relaxation (it always has an unreasonably big impact on my mood), the gardens and riverside had their part too. Hall's Croft and Anne Hathaway's Cottage in particular had stunning gardens where I lingered, writing my thoughts and impressions of the trip and generally snoozing in the sun. The Cottage was particularly pleasant because there was a woodland walk, an arboretum, and an orchard for me to wander around in as well. When the train I had planned to catch on Thursday afternoon was cancelled, I didn't even bat an eyelid. I just walked back into the town centre and made my way to the river, where I used my coat as a blanket and my backpack as a pillow and just people watched and daydreamed for another hour and a half.
It's funny that when I tell people I went to Stratford upon Avon over the holiday nearly everyone's reply has been a variation of, 'Oh lovely, what did you see?'
Originally I hadn't planned to see a play at all, but Sean convinced me that it was worth it. So I booked tickets to the only Shakespeare production that was playing at the Royal Shakespeare Company when I was there: As You Like It. The play was excellently staged - fun and loud and rude and generally true to Shakespearean comedy. I thoroughly enjoyed it. In an amusing coincidence, it happens to be the same play that I saw with Jenn over the Easter holiday two years ago, when I went to Stratford upon Avon in Ontario with her. I quite like the fact that I can say I've been to both, and that I've seen the same production. The unplanned parallel really makes me smile. As did the stunning riverside views from the theatre, complete with swans and row boats named after Shakespeare characters. tags
In August Sean and I got to play host and tour guide to my best friend and her parents, as they came over from Canada to explore London. I loved it; I got to see Jenn, share my love of London with her, get to know her parents more socially, and Sean got to know Jenn better. It was a winning combination.
Aside from pubs and museums and other landmarks, we also took a day to visit Windsor Castle. I’ve been to Windsor before and even if you aren’t interested in the Castle it’s a beautiful town to visit. Great pubs, restaurants, shopping, and a stunning riverside. That being said, the Castle is well worth a visit. As grand and extravagant as the interior is, I enjoyed being out in the grounds much more. The walkways are a maze of roads and paths between buildings and through gardens. The Castle is built into the side of a hill so as you walk along you are at times taking in a stunning panorama of the town and at others hemmed in by towering stone walls and steep hills of immaculately maintained gardens. tags
My brother and his wife left a couple of days ago; I waved them off at the airport as they were weaving through security to make their way back to Canada. They weren't quite out of sight before I said to Sean, 'Right, let's go.'
If I had stood to watch them go much longer the tears might have spilled over. I've never been outwardly sentimental or emotional - in high school I was jokingly nick-named the ice queen - but the last few times I've said goodbye to my family have been tearful. It's been an incredible two weeks though, sharing my life and sites and home with them. While Jason has visited London before, Renée never has, and Jason hasn't visited since I've moved here. Much of their sightseeing around London was done while I was still working. We'd catch up in the evenings over dinner, or Sean and I'd meet them in London for drinks at a pub or, on one occasion, a visit to the theatre. (Wicked was just as good the second time around - I recommend seeing it!) It was during the second week, when they began to wind down their frenetic sightseeing, that I got to play the tourist with them. The first thing I did that second week was introduce them to Sean's family. They have made me feel so welcome here since I've been with Sean and it was important to me that my family got the chance to meet them. I feel a little guilty imposing on Sean's mum, but she and Jo now have an open invitation to visit Canada and stay with Jason and Renée, so I'm not too worried.
We also visited Highclere Castle together - for those who aren't familiar with it, it's the stately home that was the filming location for Downton Abby. The weather wasn't as fine as it had been the week before, but the rain held off long enough for us to enjoy the house and the grounds. There was something thrilling about being on a filming location of this favourite show. I know it seems silly, but it brings the fantasy of the screen to life a little, to be able to actually stand where the stories happened. You can almost imagine yourself a part of them. I felt the same kind of thrill when Sean and I visited Harewood House, a filming location for Victoria. The history of the Carnarvon family was also interesting though, and I particularly liked noting the moments that must have inspired the show's writer. There are tiny threads of truth woven throughout the fictional Crawley saga that were a delight to discover. And Sean (who loathes period dramas and was thoroughly uninterested in the Downton Abby connection) perked up considerably when he realised there was an exhibition on Egypt and the discovery of Tutankhamen's tomb (the 5th Earl of Carnarvon played a major role in the find).
The other big tourist trip was a day tour by coach to Stonehenge and Bath. We booked through Premium Tours and it was a really lovely day. The tour guide was funny and informative and the journey fairly comfortable. I was fascinated by Stonehenge. I still haven't quite got over my marvel at how old civilisation is here in England. To be standing beside something so many thousands of years old was stunning. When I stop to think about it properly, it drives me absolutely mad how much we don't know about our world. While we could find out a lot about how Stonehenge was built and the various stages of construction, archaeologists can only guess at why it might have been built. I absolutely burn to know these things but, like most of my questions about our world and the stars and, well, everything, really, I will have to bury my curiosity and just resign myself to never knowing any of the answers. The visitor's centre at Stonehenge featured photos of other henges around England and, while I suppose I should have realised it, I didn't quite think that there would be others. Some were only really visible from the air, as they're little more than dips and mounds in fields now, but others still had stones and other markers visible. Nothing nearly as grand and impressive as Stonehenge, but I think I might like to try and see them one day all the same. Bath was lovely too, but much the same as the last time I visited. Lunch was notable - we stopped in at Handmade Burger Co. (luckily just before the heavens absolutely opened up on us) for some truly delicious burgers. I'd recommend the Hawaiian chicken burger, which is what I had, but it was a tough choice as everything on the menu looked mouthwateringly good. Once we were back in London, we went out to dinner and then to a pub to celebrate Renée's birthday - and their last night in England.
It was an early start the next morning to make it to the airport, and all too suddenly it seemed it was time to say goodbye.
London is very much my home now and I am reaching the point where I can't quite imagine myself living anywhere other than England (assuming the home office will grant me leave to remain), but that doesn't change the fact that I miss spending time with my family. I used to be very close to my younger sister and my brother, and while I arguably still am, distance and a five hour time difference make it hard to feel that closeness. Having Jason and Renée come visit was a chance to properly renew that closeness and remind myself that I am still a part of my family. tags
My summer seems somehow to have stretched out to encompass an endless stream of new experiences; so many more than I ever expected to fit into six weeks. There was my ten-day trip to Scandinavia right at the start, a region of Europe that was entirely new to me, as was the experience with Contiki tours, but that incredible vacation was only just the beginning of my summer experience.
Almost as soon as I got back to London, Sean and I arranged to see a burlesque/cabaret revue in South Bank called Between The Sheets. While cabaret was not a new experience for me, we found our way to a restaurant under the arches near Waterloo station called the Archduke for cocktails before the show. I'd never been before, though I'd passed it countless times. From the outside, the glass and brick front with the glaring neon signs doesn't look like much, but inside is beautifully arranged with a surprising amount of natural light and plenty of opportunities for live jazz. A pianist was performing the evening we were there and, being a quieter night, the bar staff were attentive. I will definitely be going back there again. I fairly devoured books this summer, reading roughly two a week. Neither of my top picks are recently published, but they were new to me and I only took a few days to read each of them: I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith (which is so much funnier and more complex than its film adaptation) and The Happiness Project by Gretchen Ruben. The latter was a game changer for me. I have struggled so much to be more positive and to be happier but I kept slipping into old, negative patterns, a backslide that left me constantly feeling like a failure. It was so refreshing to read about someone else's experiences and to realise that adjusting your attitude is hard and that no one is meant to be perfect (or perfectly happy) all the time. I don't know exactly why this book was so eye-opening for me, since I did know those things before, but something just clicked when I read it and I thought, 'Yes. I can do this!' While I was already feeling more positive with the advent of the summer holidays, reading this book left me with such a renewed sense of joie de vivre, it was like a new lease on life. I tried to capitalise on that feeling when Sean and I took a trip to Leeds towards the end of August. I had never been, but the city was meant to be a hotspot for new music and food and drink, as well as having strong historical ties. I throughly enjoyed visiting both the city and its surrounds. Together with Sean's friends, Guy and Verity, we took a day trip to Harewood House to absorb some country air and peace, as well as have a snoop around both house and grounds. Fans of ITV's show Victoria may recognise some of the rooms from the scenes of 'Buckingham Palace' in the show.
My new experiences didn't end there, either: The four of us signed up for our first escape room at Tick Tock Unlock. We were locked into a Pharaoh's-tomb-themed room and had an hour to solve the puzzles and get ourselves out. For the first fifteen minutes we accomplished next to nothing, struggling to crack the first puzzle, but once we got over that initial embarrassing hump, we tackled the rest with fair aplomb. I was nervous about it before, worried that it would leave me feeling stupid and end with us all bickering with each other, frustrated by the puzzles. There was no bickering and the puzzles weren't frustratingly difficult (despite what our initial fifteen minutes of staring at walls and turning over boxes and bags might suggest). We all had a lot of fun and for much of the rest of the trip, our conversations kept coming back to how much we enjoyed it. One a slightly less exciting note, I also had my first proper pub quiz while in Leeds and, while we didn't come that close to winning, I don't think we did terribly poorly either.
The bank holiday weekend rounded off what had been a truly wonderful summer for me with a trip to Bletchley Park, somewhere I had been hounding Sean to take me since his sister and her husband had been in March. The day was gloriously sunny; it was perfect weather, since so much of the museum is outside. In between wandering around the bunkers and houses and garages, we also managed to squeeze in a pleasant picnic lunch by the pond, where we carefully positioned our chairs so that Sean could sit in the shade and I could bask in the sun.
I thought going back to work would be quite the reality check, but I actually felt fully recharged and ready to get on with it by the time the end of August rolled around. I have been back at work now for a little over a week and I am trying to hold onto the positivity and joie de vivre that I rediscovered this summer. Though school has arguably been one of the most anticipated new experiences of the past couple months, I won't get into that just now. Things have been going really well, but I've been all about work for a week and a half now and I need to switch off mentally for a little while! Hopefully the wedding I'm going to this Saturday will help me manage to do just that.
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This school year is almost through now; only four weeks to go until we break for the summer! Much like last year, it's been manic. Coworkers kept promising me that things would get quieter and more relaxed as the year went on, but it hasn't seemed to happen. The only thing that changed from the winter term is how long I had to wait until the next break! Still, I have found it easier this year than I did last so perhaps there's some truth to the promises I keep being given.
Talking of breaks, I spent part of my summer half-term holiday in York and the Lake District. York was a beautiful city but, as you can probably predict by now, I loved being out in the countryside in the Lake District a lot more. While I'm beginning to admit that maybe I am a city girl after all, I still find the countryside unbelievably relaxing and restorative. York was my first stop on this trip, and I loved the history of it. Once I checked into my hostel on the Tuesday afternoon, the first thing I wanted to see was, of course, York Minster. I wandered the church for a good half hour before climbing the tower for the gorgeous views of the city. They warn you that you need to be fairly fit to make it to the top, but what they don't mention is that those who become dizzy easily should also avoid it. Going up was fine, but I had to pause a number of times coming down as the steep spiral was having a rather worrying effect on my balance. I had to trail my hand along the wall whenever the railing disappeared and focus incredibly closely on making sure each foot hit the next step securely. It was well worth the climb though (and the descent!) as the views were stunning. Next I paid a visit to St Mary's Abbey in the museum gardens, and managed to squeeze a walk along the old city walls that morning too.
It was shortly after the abbey that the weather began to nose-dive and it became incredibly cold and windy. It started to drizzle persistently and I found myself feeling rather miserable. Especially since the restaurant where I had hoped to have a fancy (albeit wickedly overpriced) afternoon tea was so busy and so popular the queue for a table wrapped well around the building. Instead of being totally discouraged I chose another British cultural staple and settled for a nice pub lunch instead, defaulting to my usual comfort-food of choice: hot and crispy steak and ale pie. It was delicious, and my dad was conveniently available to chat via iMessage while I ate so it was almost like I was having lunch with him, rather than on my own. It certainly improved my mood and as I lingered over a cup of tea I considered my plans for the rest of the afternoon and evening.
The weather did rather throw a wrench in the works. Most of what I wanted to do involved wandering the streets and riverbank, something that would have been lovely in the predicted sunshine and even still would have pleasant on a cloudy day, but definitely not the greatest experience in the constant icy drizzle, which had not been on the forecast when I last checked it. It was so cold in York that while I had been finding my way to the pub I had fervently wished more than once for my gloves and a much thicker scarf. The weather in London the week before had been bordering on hot, trailing off from an absolutely scorching weekend before that, so the four or five degrees celsius in York was a bit of a shock to my system. Still, I was not deterred and, after a quick stop at good old H&M to buy a heavy sweater with deep pockets to wear under my light jacket, I was exploring the city again, looking for all the history I'd read about. Though I didn't stay out as late as I would have had the weather been more favourable, I didn't let it stop me from seeing everything I had wanted to originally. Wednesday dawned just as chilly though a little drier but fortunately I was headed out of the city that day. By the time I reached the Lake District the skies had turned clear blue and the temperature had risen about ten degrees. Rolling my jacket into my bag, I broke out my sunglasses and bought an ice cream. I had joined the Beatrix Potter tour of the Lake District, but was only mildly interested in seeing where she lived and spent her time. The main reason I had signed up for it was because of all the tours of the area it seemed to cover the most. I wasn't disappointed, though I spent a lot of time just wandering idly in fields and along little country lanes while the other tourists from the bus snapped photos of farms and stood in queues to browse in Beatrix Potter's house. I had no desire to be indoors while the sun was out, especially not after all the rain the day before. We visited a tiny village called Hawkshead for lunch, the main feature being a medieval church and some opportunities for shopping the local artisanal crafts. Uninterested in the shopping, I found my way up to the church right away. It overlooked the whole village and surrounding farms, situated as it was on the tallest hill in the area. Not only did I have a great view, but the churchyard was dead quiet (if you'll pardon the pun) and no one else seemed keen on visiting it. I watched people coming and going in the village for a while, then dozed in the shade of some impressive rose bushes whilst the sheep in the field beside the churchyard bleated contentedly in the background. I ate my supermarket sandwich, then headed back to meet the bus. The day ended in Windermere with a cruise on the lake and then a pleasant drive back to York, during which the tour guide and I chatted about education, politics, and what it meant to be 'posh', a term I was familiar with but didn't really understand. He provided much insight there. We were back in York with plenty of time for me to have a sit-down dinner before making my way to the station to catch my train home.
While I did love York, I'm glad I ended with the Lake District as it meant I could go home feeling relaxed and energised from the good weather and peace and quiet. I'm hoping to visit more of England as this year goes on. Stratford Upon Avon is up there, as are the cliffs of Dover. And people keep telling me to go to Cornwall as well. So perhaps one of those three will be my next escape-the-city trip.
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I haven't really written about what I've really been up to recently. Things have been so hectic I haven't had time to find the words to describe my holiday in Ireland, not to mention the emotional speedball that was catching up with my high school friend, Will! In fact, I think that particular story can wait a while longer. Let's start with Ireland.
Over the October half term break, I went to Southern Ireland for a week; it was my first solo trip to a foreign country and the experience was a bit of a mixed bag. On the whole I loved it, and am thoroughly looking forward to doing the same in Germany this December (when I have a moment to even think about going to Germany, that is!). There were a few things contributing to my mindset in Ireland, which is all it takes to either make or break a holiday, really. Right before I left I spent the weekend catching up with Will, an old friend from high school, and he and I hit it off well enough that it was a very reluctant parting when I left for Ireland. When I arrived in Dublin and settled into my hostel, all I really wanted was to be back in London, still spending time with him. Throughout the whole trip, the gorgeous Irish landscape was absorbed and enjoyed through a haze of distracted thoughts about Will. But Ireland itself was beautiful and by the second day I was back to myself (mostly) and determined to enjoy my holiday. The weather was typical of Ireland in October: very wet and windy and grey. The fields were a mix of bright, rain-speckled green and a damp, crunchy sort of autumn brown. We travelled along the winding, narrow roads, close beside the rough stone walls that immediately spring to mind when you think of Ireland, and admired the scenery through the fuzzy filter of constant drizzle.
Because it was my first solo trip I decided on a group tour, and chose this Paddywagon 3-day tour of southern Ireland. It hit all the major locations that I wanted most to see and had the added bonus of making it easy to meet people. Our tour guide was pretty nice; a lot less sociable than Andy from Scotland, but he had loads of folklore to share with us as we drove around the country. He also had a pretty great story-telling voice and a gorgeous Galway accent (though he said 'okay' every three or four words. It was almost as bad as listening to a Canadian with their 'eh's).
I can't tell you much about the cities I visited, partly because I was too distracted by Will's appearance in my life and the usual teaching work load to do much research into what I wanted to see and where I wanted to go in the cities. I just wanted to see the countryside, and that's exactly what I did. So I got much more acquainted with the ocean, fields, and cliffs than I did with the cities. In Galway I walked along the promenade by the bay the evening we arrived. I'd been walking away from the city centre for a good fifteen minutes when it started to absolutely pour, and I'd stupidly left my umbrella at the hostel. There was nothing for it but to turn around and make my way back to the main stretch, trying to convince myself that I was thoroughly enjoying walking next to the ocean in Ireland, getting soaked through by icy cold water. I spent the rest of the evening drying off in the first pub I found and waiting out the rain so I could stay dry en route to the hostel.
But you know where I did enjoy walking alongside the ocean and getting soaked through with icy cold water (and blown over by a frigid wind)? The Cliffs of Moher. Despite the wind and the rain I walked all the way along the cliffs, stopping to listening to the roar of the waves beating against the rocks, and to turn my face into the wind and let it blow through my mind, carrying all the stress and sadness and loneliness away over the ocean. The Cliffs of Moher was definitely my favourite spot, followed closely by the ruins of Dunamase Castle.
Dunamase castle suited my frame of mind at the end of the trip; it was a crumbling ruin on the top of a hill, high enough that I could stand on the remains and look out over three counties. The rain had finally stopped and the sunshine was clear and golden, playing tag with the massive silver clouds, edged in white-gold, whose shadows raced over the fields far below. I could circle the castle, admiring a completely panoramic view, and enjoy the tall grass and close-growing flowers that, amazingly, were still in bloom despite it being chilly autumn. The castle seemed a little sad at first but the longer I spent up there the more I realized it wasn't sad at all. It was comfortably solitary, content to weather the seasons and completely ignore the world as it slowly sunk into the hill. I took some of my favourite photos there, including one of the three Canadian girls who were, like me, teachers in the UK, overwhelmed by how mental the system is here, and thoroughly enjoying travelling Europe.
My solo experience of Ireland was good for me, I think. It was a quiet holiday, and a lonely one, but there was plenty of introspection involved and I decided that I do like being on my own. I liked the independence and solitude. I liked not being connected to anyone around me.
When I got back to England I was happy to be around my flat mates again, and also looking forward to being back at work. Germany was going to be my next trip but there was a long wait for that. Even so, I was content to be on my own through it all. And then Will, whom I had been talking to every day since we'd said goodbye at the train station, asked me to meet him in Amsterdam for a weekend, a weekend which then completely threw over my decision about liking solitude and isolation. tags
I fell in love with the Highlands this summer. I almost broke up with London and moved to Scotland.
The only other place I've been where I've felt as much peace and ease has been the Muskoka region of Ontario, on the shores of a tiny little lake whose name I can't pronounce, relaxing on the dock of a cottage only accessible by boat. The Scottish highlands are nothing like Muskoka, of course. Driving through them on our coach bus was like watching someone unroll a tapestry of all my favourite landscapes. It felt a little like coming home - one I'd forgotten I even had. Truly, I understand why so many writers and artists have been inspired by the Highlands.
It's an incredibly rugged landscape of uneven hills spotted with rough grey rock and springy, boggy turf. The valleys and unbalanced fields give way to lochs that stretch away from you in an endless moment, the surface flat and smooth as glass and the water as dark and impenetrable as smoke. Then the moment ends and you're faced with the sheer, imposing visage of a mountain, the jagged edges revealing more grey and black rocks, broken here and there with a smudge of greenery or even a dusting of purple heather. The mountains wept, tiny waterfalls that looked no wider than my wrist hurtling down almost sheer drops. Then you're into the ranges and they become less imposing and more protective, as you wind your way through the narrow roads in the valleys, embraced by multiple hulking peaks demanding your attention whichever way you looked. Until you pass through them and your horizon rapidly expands as you are confronted with the ocean.
Despite being peak tourist season and thus crawling with people whose only interest was snapping photographs and buying shortbread (one of whom I was an unashamed member), I thoroughly enjoyed my tour of the Highlands. We spent five days exploring the area, driving from Edinburgh up towards the coast and the Isle of Skye, then further north to Inverness. And, of course, once we were in Inverness we had to make our way back down to Edinburgh again. One of my favourite parts of the tour was the coastal town, Oban. It was our first overnight stop and Andy, our tour guide, invited us all to join him at a Ceilidh club that night. A ceilidh night is an evening of Scottish music and dancing and, of course, drinking, and it was a blast. I managed to convince my dad to try a reel (or two) with me and we burned off all the calories from the massive fish and chips dinner we'd had a couple hours before. If you've never tried Scottish dancing, I'd highly recommend it, though I also warn you that it is really energetic. There's lots of skipping, spinning, and bouncing. It's also quite fast-paced. In fact, some of the dances reminded me a little of a less dignified and barely controlled Charleston. I was completely out of breath by the end of it (though I'm not very fit to begin with, and some of that was from laughing as much as skipping).
I have to take my hat off to our tour guide, Andy. His restaurant recommendations and terribly fantastic puns, not to mention his knowledge of local folklore and history and his national pride, really made the tour something special. If anyone is interested in following my footsteps and touring the highlands, the tour we went on was this 5 Day Highland Experience. I have nothing but good things to say about it, and that's as much due to the tour organisation and the tour guide as the places we were seeing.
In the end I decided not to break up with London. There just isn't enough infrastructure throughout the Highlands. So though I decided to be practical and not move up to the Highlands, I have reserved a place for them in my heart and will most certainly be going back. tags
I've visited Edinburgh twice now. I went for the first time over New Year for the Hogmanay festival, and then I went again this summer for the Military Tattoo and summer Fringe festival. Even bursting at the seams with people and noise and smells, I really loved the city. Those of you who know me will know what that means coming from me, as a woman who abhors crowds and noise and will go out of her way to avoid them.
Edinburgh just has such character. London certainly has identity; it's old, and grand, but at the same time determined to weather the coming centuries just as well as it has the preceding ones. Which also means it's very trendy and vibrant. Somehow it manages to merge the trendy and traditional beautifully, and you have a city with an incredible buzz to it. Edinburgh, on the other hand, is much more solid. It's strongly built, in a rough landscape, and populated with equally solid, no-nonsense, down-to-earth people. I think the city, like its populace, is fiercely attached to its history and refuses to accept the tidied, English version of events, much the same way the newer, Georgian addition to the city is tolerated but not quite wholly accepted by the old town. On the other hand, Edinburgh is also very proud of what part it played in British history, as the Royal Yacht Britannia proves, permanently docked as it is in Leith harbour.
Parts of Edinburgh are very old - the aptly named Old Town, for example - and they are grand, beautiful, and dark, almost to the point of brooding, populated with great, sturdy, old houses, churches, and bridges. Not to mention Edinburgh castle, crouching over the top of the city. The whole place is also built on a series of hills so there are twisting, narrow alleys that lead to steep, lengthy flights of worn stone steps. The cars often need to take equally twisting, narrow roads down suddenly steep streets, where buildings that from one side of the road only seemed two stories high, are revealed to have a good seven-story basement as you drive down the hill on their other side.
London is wonderful for it's restaurants, but I think Edinburgh has it beat hands-down for pubs. I had a steak-and-ale pie from The Fiddler's Arms in the Grassmarket that was so good, I went back again the next night for the same meal. And the atmosphere was great as well, even taking into account the ever-so-slightly long-suffering attitude towards tourists. Everyone was very good natured, and I can hardly blame them for being tired of tourists: there were easily more foreigners in the city than there were locals. Particularly in and around the Grassmarket, where we spent a lot of our time. I took my dad all along the Royal Mile while we were there: it's my favourite part of Edinburgh simply because of all the history you can find wandering up and down that hill. I've mentioned the castle at one end, but there's also a particularly impressive church along the way, the government buildings, and a stunning museum. At the bottom of the Mile you'll find the new and very modern parliament buildings just around the corner from the Palace of Hollyroodhouse.
Sweeping into the skyline behind the palace, in counterpoint to the castle dug into its smaller mountain, is Arthur's Seat, a magnificent extinct volcano from the top of which you can get the most breathtaking views of the city. Or so I'm told. We opted for the slightly less magnificent, but still stunning, panoramas found from the top of Calton Hill. There was a much lower fitness level required for Calton Hill, you see. And also a very odd arrangement of monuments to puzzle over around the grounds there, one of which is the incomplete national monument. Why is it incomplete? Because they ran out of money. A common theme in Scottish architecture, I later learned. Now the monument is used by youths to share a few beers, and perhaps a few other things, as the evenings draw in and the crowds diminish.
I adored the city and have every intention of going back a third time, when it isn't in full festival swing. I'd like to see what it's like when there are more locals than tourists and I can actually experience the city for herself. tags |
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