So. England. Now, where was I? Better settle in with your coffee or a glass of wine, depending on which time zone you live in, folks. This is going to be a long one.
Our UK trip continued apace after Bath. To Stratford-Upon-Avon, and then north to the Peak District. On our day out with Jules in Bath, he'd offered to drive us to Stratford, and show us the Cotswolds at the same time. But we demurred. We were tempted, believe me, but really couldn't justify the extra cost, especially since we had rail passes. So on the Saturday morning, we were up early, packed, breakfasted, caffeinated, and boarding the train along with a myriad of other passengers all seemingly out for a weekend of fun and... well... not to put too fine a point on it... drinking.
Everyone, it seemed, was breaking out the pints, or the wine, or even the champagne. A group of what looked to be three middle-aged sisters and their mum, further up the coach, had brought breakfast snacks, balloons announcing that one of their party was enjoying a fiftieth birthday.... and champagne. A party of young men were well into their pints by the time we pulled into Oxford at mid-morning. And across the aisle from me, sat a wonderfully voluble young woman who sipped mini-bottles of Chenin Blanc the entire trip, and entertained her dad with family stories, and memories of what she and her friends had got up to in their teens. After a few minutes, I gave up even trying to focus on my book, and shamelessly eavesdropped. At one point, she pulled a fresh bottle of wine from her capacious handbag, and announced, "Now then, Dad, time for a swallow. It's the start of me holiday." Her dad chuckled, but wisely stuck to his tea. The better to be able to handle both their luggage when they reached wherever they were going, I suspect. I haven't been on such an entertaining journey for ages. Not since Hubby and I took a bus in New Lanark, near Glasgow, years ago. And listened to an elderly woman in the front seat as she greeted every single person who boarded, asked after their family, and eventually gave Hubby and me specific directions to our destination once she had ascertained who we were, where we were from, and where we were going. We still laugh at that memory.
![old cottage with stone paving stones outside and wooden bench]( "Wrapping Up England: outside Anne Hathaway's cottage, Stratford-upon-Avon, England") |
| Anne Hathaway's Cottage |
In Stratford, of course, we made the rounds of the Shakespeare landmarks, and historic sites. Like Anne Hathaway's cottage, which was a short stroll from our B&B. Because we were fairly early, we had the place pretty much to ourselves. So we were able to get pictures without people in them. And could linger in each room, chatting with the guides. That was lovely. I liked how the cottage was set up to reflect the daily lives of the Hathaway family over the centuries.![antique bed in Anne Hathaway's cottage in England]( "Wrapping Up England:inside Anne Hathaway's cottage, Stratford-upon-Avon, England") |
| I love how the house was set up to show the life of the cottage across the centuries. |
I must admit that despite teaching English for decades, I'm not much of a Shakespeare devotee. What I found most interesting were the guides' stories of how the mythology of the man has built up over the centuries. Aided and abetted by generations of Hathaways, whose fortunes having declined, took full advantage of having a celebrated in-law to make some much needed cash from gullible tourists. One can hardly blame them, eh?
![picture of a woman, 17th century]( "Wrapping Up England:inside Anne Hathaway's cottage, Stratford-upon-Avon, England") |
| Mary Baker, an enterprising descendant of Anne Hathaway |
![book with text]( "Wrapping Up England:inside Anne Hathaway's cottage, Stratford-upon-Avon, England") |
| The much "whittled" settle, where Shakespeare and his bride did NOT sit courting. |
![thatched cottage and garden]( "Wrapping Up England:Anne Hathaway's cottage and garden, Stratford-upon-Avon, England") |
| The garden was equally interesting. |
![list of plants in a garden]( "Wrapping Up England: list of plants in garden at Anne Hathaway's Cottage, Stratford-upon-Avon, England") |
| This sign had my name on it... literally. |
![Hedgehog campsite]( "Wrapping Up England:part of the garden at Anne Hathaway's cottage, Stratford-upon-Avon, England") |
| How can you NOT love a garden with a "hedgehog campsite?" |
Just before we left Anne Hathaway's cottage a large bus drew up and disgorged a ton of other tourists, along with their cameras and selfie-sticks. Gad. I was beginning to hate those things. By the time we had walked downtown to Shakespeare's birthplace, a seemingly identical group was there before us. Sheesh. Was this the same bunch? It hardly seemed possible. I'm not good in crowds, and hate to shuffle behind a long line of people through rooms which might be interesting if I could actually see anything, other than the people in front of me and on either side of me. So we beat a hasty retreat, made for the nearest exit, and wandered down to the Avon River, and along the river to Holy Trinity church where Shakespeare is buried. This was much better. ![stone church and old graves, fallen leaves]( "Wrapping Up England:Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon, England") |
| Holy Trinity Church. Shakespeare's grave is inside. |
On our last morning in Stratford, Rosie who reads this blog and lives in Stratford, picked us up at our B&B, and drove us to this lovely village in the Cotswold countryside. Broadway, she says, is her favourite village. A little jewel of Cotswold stone houses, with the perfect place for morning coffee and a catch-up chat with friends. I met Rosie last summer when she and her family were in Ottawa on holiday. As she said, wasn't it cool to be seeing each other again so soon? What a small world we live in.
![street in a Cotswold village]( "Wrapping Up England: Broadway in the Cotswolds") |
| The village of Broadway, in the Cotswolds |
Rosie and I laughed that we looked as if we had co-ordinated our navy and grey outfits for the meeting. After coffee, a wander around the village of Broadway, and a lovely drive back into Stratford, Rosie dropped us and our luggage at the train station. Wasn't that kind of her? Especially as she and her husband had arrived home from Spain late the night before, and she had yet to unpack, or do anything really. Except rush out the door first thing to meet us.
![two women in a cafe with stone walls]( "Wrapping up England: Rosie and me in Broadway") |
| Rosie and at The Broadway Deli. As you can see, I was still talking when the picture was taken. |
Then it was time to head north. Through Birmingham, Derby, and Chesterfield to our accommodation near Chatsworth, the Devonshire Arms in the tiny village of Beeley in the Peak District. I have long wanted to visit this area, to see the countryside which I've read so much about and, of course, Chatsworth House itself.
![table and chairs next to a roaring wood fire]( "Wrapping Up England: a table next to a cosy fire at he Devonshire Arms, Beeley") |
| A cosy table near the fire at The Devonshire Arms |
![stream with stone walls, and a small stone house]( "Wrapping Up England: our accommodation in Beeley, Derbyshire, England") |
| Our room was not in the inn itself, but nearby, alongside this small stream |
We spent two nights here, and thus had one full day to explore. At first I was a bit flummoxed to find that there was no transport offered to guests who stayed here, and who had purchased "The Chatsworth Experience" which included bed and breakfast accommodation, dinner, and tickets to visit Chatsworth House. "Nope," said the girl in the pub who checked us in, when I asked if there was a shuttle bus or something similar. "You can drive, or you can walk. Across the fields it's forty minutes to walk." We-ell. Since we didn't have a car, and she said taxis would have to come out from Chesterfield, I guess walking it would be. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind the idea of a 40 minute walk. We'd walked much more than that in London, and the scenery would be beautiful. It was more the idea that we'd be tramping along trails, through fields, probably muddy... we were told.... with no hiking boots. My good Stuart Weitzman boots were already whimpering.
![green grass, blue sky, stone houses, drystone wall]( "Wrapping Up England: Beeley village school") |
| The view while we waited for the bus to Chatsworth House |
The next morning after breakfast when we picked up our tickets we discovered that the answer to our question about the best way to get where we were going depended on whom we asked. The girl who gave us our tickets to Chatsworth, pointed us in the direction of the footpath (no maps? nope), and assured us it would be dry (maybe, she thought.) Then another staff member, who stood nearby, interrupted. She said the trail was underwater in places where it ran close to the river, that we'd be up to our ankles before we knew it. Then she took us outside, pointed out where to catch the bus that could take us to Chatsworth, when it was likely to arrive, and wished us a great day. Phew. Now why, oh why, didn't everyone who worked there know that? Or, since some of the girls were waitresses, and gamely doing double duty checking in guests, why didn't The Devonshire Arms provide a little information sheet, with a map of how to get to Chatsworth House, and include bus times etc for those who didn't have a car? Wouldn't that be an easy fix? Ah well, never mind, we found out about the bus in time to catch the next one to Chatsworth House, my boots were saved, and it was a fabulously sunny, crisp day. And I was going to finally see the home of one of the Mitford sisters. I may not be an expert on Shakespeare, people, but Mitford-mania is something I do know about.
![Chatsworth house from a bridge]( "Wrapping Up England: view of Chatsworth from the bus") |
| Chatsworth House from the bus window. |
![a lake and a stately home on the other side]( "Wrapping Up England: Chatsworth House") |
| From inside the beautiful grounds. |
![woman standing beside a lake with Chatsworth House in the background]( "Wrapping Up England: me with Chatsworth House in the distance") |
| A shot taken by a kindly student, after I did the same for her |
Chatsworth House did not disappoint. Okay... well, maybe just a little. The house itself was unquestionably beautiful, as were the grounds. But it was very crowded inside. And this made it difficult to get a feel for the grandeur of the house. And the fashion exhibit which I was so excited to see, was also hard to get a handle on, I thought. The displays were spread over many rooms, cleverly arranged by theme: wedding dresses, mourning wear, party dresses in the dining room where a dinner table for goodness knows how many guests was set. But it was difficult to find the cards or labels which explained what we were looking at, and many of the rooms were so dark, and so crowded, that we eventually just floated through, carried by the momentum of the crowd, not really understanding what we were looking at. I read this article in the New York Times after I came home, about how Hamish Bowles, an editor for American Vogue, curated the show, and what his vision was. I wish that had been communicated more clearly when I was there.
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| We were not alone here, folks. |
But, you know, somehow it seems fitting that after a bit of time my interest in the luxurious fashions began to take second place to my interest in all the Deborah Mitford memorabilia. Clothes- fashionable, stylish clothes- were never important to Debo. She once famously quipped that she bought most of her clothes at agricultural shows. I recognized her wedding dress in one of the displays, and the dress, below, which she wore to Queen Elizabeth II's coronation. I saw a straw handbag with Debo, embroidered on it. And of course her famous Elvis slippers. Ha. The former Duchess was a true fan of "the king."
![mannequin in a red velvet dress with white fur trimmed train]( "Wrapping Up England: dress that Deborah the Duchess of Devonshire wore to Queen Elizabeth's coronation in 1953") |
| The dress Debo wore to Queen Elizabeth II's coronation |
I particularly loved seeing evidence that Debo was not the only eccentric in her marriage. The collection of wool sweaters owned by Andrew, 11th Duke of Devonshire, husband of Deborah Mitford, was a hoot. Embroidered with odd sayings, this one was my favourite. I had a lovely chat with a guide about the sweater collection. She chuckled and said this one was her favourite too.
![sweater with "Never Marry a Mitford" written on it]( "Wrapping Up England: Duke of Devonshire's quirky sweater") |
| The former duke had a quirky sense of humour |
Despite the lack of reliable information about transport, I really enjoyed our stay at the Devonshire Arms. The food was fabulous. The room lovely. And after dinner in the pub, coming back outside to head to our room, into the crisp fall air, surrounded by darkness, and hills, and stone houses on narrow twisting streets, well... it felt wonderful. The scenery in the Peak District is stunning. Bucolic. Peaceful. Calming. I loved it there. I'd go back in a heartbeat. To stay a few days and just wander, do some walking, drink a few pints in a pub, just breath.
![green countryside, with a river in the distance]( "Wrapping Up England: the Derbyshire countryside")
We had one more stop to make before we headed back down south to London, Heathrow, and then home. Bakewell is a village which came highly recommended, by guide books and friends alike. A short taxi ride from Beeley, we had time to explore before my luncheon date. This is a small street of cottages that I wandered down on my way to our hotel. The cottage on this end is the one I picked out for myself. If I had to move here tomorrow... this would be the place for me. As I stood there taking the shot, I committed the name of the cottage to memory... but... well, that's not a very safe place to store things these days. Ha. Was it Dove Cottage? Surely not. That name's already taken. Let's just call it Sue's Place, shall we? ![street of small stone cottages with a church spire in the distance]( "Wrapping Up England: a street of stone cottages in Bakewell, Derbyshire, England")
![two ladies in sweaters and scarves at an outdoor cafe table, under a green umbrella]( "Wrapping Up England: Wendy and me at the Lavender Tea Rooms in Bakewell, Derbyshire, England") |
| Wendy and me at the Lavender Tea Rooms |
You know, this trip did not turn out to be the trip of my dreams. I struggled many days, with fatigue, with sadness over my brother's death. I had a couple of melt downs. Maybe it was too soon to travel. Maybe I should have delayed the trip. But that was a tough call to make. Especially when everything happened so close to our departure. The stressful, anxious weeks leading up to my brother's death, Hubby's and my flying trip home for the funeral, my back problems three days before we were due to leave. I was so busy just getting on with things that I never had time to process. To really grieve. But it's pointless to second guess myself, now. It's all water under the bridge. And as a wise woman from York said to me, think of all the wonderful things I've seen that I will store away, and reflect on later. And I'd add to that, the friends (like Rosie and Wendy) who I've been able to meet up with, and get to know in real life. My friend Frances recently wrote a post on her blog about friendship. I've been thinking about it quite a bit as I've been writing this post. How wonderful this weird world of blogging can be when on-line acquaintances cross over to become real life friends.
![an empty train platform in the countryside]( "Wrapping Up England: the train platform at Matlock Bath, Derbyshire, England") |
| The platform at Matlock Bath, where our train never arrived |
Before I end, I just want to say a word or two about the kindness of strangers. In strange places. This is the platform where we stood in Matlock Bath our last morning, waiting for a train that never showed up. Finally seeing the announcement that it had been cancelled, we stood there on the empty platform, at an unmanned station, wondering what to do. When the driver of a bus parked on the other side of the parking lot that was gearing up to leave, jumped off, ran down to where we stood, and explained how he was the driver of the "replacement bus." Huh? We didn't even know there was such a thing as a replacement bus. He just had to drive down into Matlock, he said, but he'd be back to pick us up in no time, and would take us all the way into Derby. Now wasn't that nice? He could have driven off, no doubt wondering why those two ladies just stood on the platform, too stupid to get on the bus. But, instead, he went out of his way to be kind.
I loved that. Made me feel all warm inside.
Now that I've wrapped up my trip, I really must wrap up this post. It's gone on far too long. If any of you are still reading, I'll say good night. Next week, it's back to fashion and books, folks. Enough about travel for now.
