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travels in my own country

~ idle thoughts

travels in my own country

Tag Archives: Derbyshire

Day 315: On the Edge

14 Monday Jul 2014

Posted by simon682 in Travels with Jolly, Uncategorized

≈ 28 Comments

Tags

Chesterfield, Curbar Edge, Derbyshire, Froggatt Edge, Grindleford, Newbold, The Peak District, Yorkshire

Day 315: On the Edge

Getting Ready For the Next Trek

If I’m going to take Jolly on a trek then I need the practice as much as she does. Once underway we’ll be fine. I can never remember worrying very much about little things like what to eat or where to spend the night when I’ve been off on a journey in the past. At least not after the first couple of days. But normally I’m on my own. With a dog I want to try out some routes and check out campsites and other possible places to pitch a tent.

DSC_0122As well as getting her used to walking on open moorland  for many hours a day often through livestock, we are planning out the early stages of a possible route. I have a fancy for combining the five great attractions of Yorkshire. (Pennines, Dales, Vales, Moors and Coast.) If the Tour de France can explore the county then A Lancastrian walker and a Yorkshire dog can do the same. We plan on starting in the Peaks but hope to get onto the Pennine Way after a few days. This should take us up the “backbone of England” and along the wild exposed moors. Once we’ve passed the famous sites of mass trespass, the fast flowing streams that powered the industrial revolution, the moorland world of the Brontes and Malham Cove we intend to take a few days crossing the Yorkshire Dales. I quite fancy an amble down Wensleydale but I could be equally happy exploring Wharfedale or Swaledale. Twenty miles of flat farmland with monasteries follows. This is Herriot Country and with Sutton Bank ahead we should find ourselves on The North York Moors. Once we’ve crossed these we come to my favourite stretch of coast. The whole walk should end in Scarborough and if we manage that in less than three weeks I should be very much surprised. If we manage it at all I shall be more than proud.

DSC_0096She’s had a rotten start to life and even though she is happy and full of fun most of the time, it doesn’t take much to remind her of when things looked bleak and cruel. Like most of us she needs love and attention. She needs calm, patience and she needs to be kept busy and stimulated. She is much the cleverer of the pair of us. We both need a challenge. We plan to celebrate being retired (she is a big reason why I chose to take the pension) by setting off in September. The moors and campsites will be quieter and we can gloat like anything every time we pass a school. Not that there are many schools on the route we’re planning.

DSC_0098These are very early plans. They’ll change as I see difficulties or opportunities (often the same thing) and by September we’ll be planning something altogether different. The planning is half the fun.

DSC_0057Today we walked along some more Derbyshire gritstone edges. The sun shone at its best in the morning and we caught the best part of the day. I’ve got the route planned now from Newbold (in Chesterfield) to Grindleford. In the next week or so we’ll find the best way to follow the River Derwent up to Ladybower Reservoir. After that we will be in the heart of the dark part of the dark peak. I can’t wait.

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Day 220: This Land is Your Land

09 Wednesday Apr 2014

Posted by simon682 in A Cyclist on the Celtic Fringe, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Bess of Hardwick, Capability Brown, Chatsworth, Chatsworth Farm Shop, Cycle tour of England, Derbyshire, Lord Byron, Pride and Prejudice, The Duke of Devonshire, Vita Sackville West, Woody Guthrie

A Journey Around the British Isles … Part 108

I’m cycling through the Chatsworth estate and singing in full throated ease:


Yes I’m the man, the very fat man, 

That waters the workers’ beer,
And what do I care if it makes them
ill,
If it makes them terribly queer,
I’ve a car and a yacht and an
aeroplane,
And I waters the workers’ beer.

I’ve passed notices and collection boxes on this estate that say things like: “The upkeep of these grounds is expensive. Your donation is appreciated.” Well, it’s nice to know that one of the richest men in England is happy to beg money of those of slender means. I declined the invitation. But I’m entranced. Despite my man of the people singing, you can’t help but admire the parkland. I’d prefer it to belong to the National Trust but it is astonishingly lovely no matter who owns it.

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Like a great deal of eighteenth century parkland in England, this is very much the work of one Lancelot “Capability” Brown. Garden design is an art form when taken to the highest levels. Vita Sackville West was  accomplished enough as a novelist to secure her place in the country’s roll of honour. It is for the gardens that she created at Sissinghurst in Kent that she will be remembered. You can’t beat a well designed garden. I love to walk among the rhododendrons and azaleas at Muncaster Castle. Newstead Abbey is council run and the gardens there do full justice to the memory of Lord Byron and the art of the municipal spadesman.

If you make a mistake in gardening though, it soon becomes obvious. Most garden plants grow, mature and flower in a year,  and those that don’t will have established themselves within a handful of years. If you’ve put them in the wrong place then all you’ve got to do is to dig them out (at the right time of year) and re-plant them somewhere else.

It’s not quite so easy with parkland. First of all the groundworks require skill and patience in planning and enormous man-hours in accomplishing. It takes years for them to bed down and  take on the desired form. Then you have the problem of the planting. Parkland requires mature, slow growing, English broad leaf trees to achieve its desired effect. It could take fifty years to even notice if you’ve planted one of these in the wrong place and a further fifty years for it’s replacement to grow in the right place. Vision is the most over-used word in the world of mediocre management. (I know what I’m talking about here. I’ve been a teacher for nearly thirty years and (with notable exceptions) have experienced some of the most mediocre management the country has produced. Managers who talk of “the vision thing” and who use expressions like “clear sky thinking” and “thinking outside the box” are invariably people who don’t even know where the box is or which way is up. One man who did have the vision thing though, was old Lancelot Brown.

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Here at Chatsworth he diverted the river, re-landscaped the grounds, planted hundreds of trees, over-saw the eviction of tenants and created a work of art. He didn’t look at what he was doing from the point of view of the present but looked instead at how it would appear in fifty or a hundred years. Almost every landscape in Britain is man made in that what you see is the result of human activity.  The land I am cycling through is almost exclusively man made. It really is a stunning achievement.

The road is going up and down like a wave machine. Old Capability liked his humps and his hollers. It’s by far the most tiring terrain to cycle, because it gives you the impression you can go fast. It’s like the PE exercise older teachers used to call fartlek, and the new, trendy ones, with their initials on the chest of their matching track suits, call interval training. It’s slow, flat out, slow, fast, very slow, sprint. Within fifteen minutes I’m deadbeat.

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Stopping under a tree and eating a Mars bar and finishing off the large bottle of cola I bought in Cheadle, I look down at the house. It has been in more films than most British actors. Many visitors think of it as the big house out of Pride and Prejudice and it’s been the family home of the Cavendish family; otherwise known as the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire; since it was sold to the first Duke by his brother, the son of original owner and builder; Bess of Hardwick. Bess was an attractive woman in her way and she made it her life’s work to marry and see off a succession of extraordinarily rich husbands. They brought vast wealth and huge estates to the union; she brought her not inconsiderable physical charms. They had their ways of making a living in the sixteenth century that involved emptying other people’s pockets. Today the 12th duke is able to stand by the cash registers as hordes of visitors get charged £65 for a family ticket that lets them see not only parts of the house, most of the garden and even (gasp at the value for money), the farmyard.

In addition to the house, the parkland, a working farm and a large number of other tenant farms across the whole of Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire, the estate has priceless paintings by old masters, a collection of classical and neo-classical sculptures and some books that only a Getty could afford to take off their hands. The Duke, Peregrine Cavendish and the Duchess (the former Amanda Carmen Heywood-Lonsdale) live in one of the most desirable residences on the planet while assorted children, cousins, step sisters and hangers on contemplate the accidental but entirely fatal mini-bus accident that would bring them wealth, riches and leisure beyond their wildest dreams.

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In recent times the family has shown themselves in step with the egalitarian nature of the modern world. In 2010 the Duke announced his intention to renounce his title on the grounds that the aristocracy isn’t what it used to be if and the toffs can’t run the country then what is the point. His son and heir has shown similar man of the people tendencies in declining the right to be known as the Marquess of Hartington, preferring the altogether more plebeian Earl of Burlington.

I get back on my bicycle and pedal past the village of Edensor which was built especially for the estate workers, and onwards towards the little town of Baslow. I’ve got my breath back and I’m once more in fine voice and belting out the words of the Woody Guthrie song. It is hard to believe that it is the twenty first century.

“This land is your land, this land is my land

From California to the New York Island

From the red-wood forests to the gulf stream waters

This land belongs to you and me.”

photo by Wesley Trevor Johnson

I don’t think I’ll get much of a sing song going. And then it’s dilemma time. There’s a farm shop on the estate, and it is no ordinary farm shop. It is one of the finest food emporiums in the East Midlands. Here you can buy a whole or half grass fed lamb, all neatly jointed and presented in a cardboard box, organic beef that has been well hung, venison, partridge, grouse and pheasant. Much of the meat comes from the estate. You can enjoy breads and pies baked on site. There are fish and seafood and all sorts of produce and provender from the better northern suppliers. The revolution will have to wait. I’m joining the queue for potted shrimps and a freshly churned ice-cream. The movement of money from poor to rich in England claims yet another victim.

Day 209: Neither Flesh Nor Fowl

29 Saturday Mar 2014

Posted by simon682 in Mostly Concerning Food, Uncategorized

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

asparagus, Aye-up, chocolate cake, Derbyshire, fruit scones, gingerbread men, paella, Prestat, scones, smoked salmon bagels, The Oven Door, Werther's Original

Mostly Concerning Food

Saturday morning is developing a new and rather pleasantly nostalgic touch. Once Jolly has been walked and the first cup of tea has been drunk, we wander round to the bakery and the sweet shop. We haven’t got the finest range of shops in the village. We’re not short of places to get take-away food, of a quality you would be wise to avoid rather than question, and we’ve got plenty of places that will cut your hair or polish your nails. At one time we had five butchers, two greengrocers and two bakers. Of these one bakery remains and we’ve become regular customers. I love baking, especially bread, but this shop is so convenient and so good. The bread and cakes taste like the bread and cakes of a south lakeland childhood. The women who work there are fabulous; funny, cheerful, down to earth and Derbyshire. Be prepared to be called “Duck” and be aware that “Aye-Up” is a first rate greeting.

An iced cream bun has become the finishing touch to Saturday breakfast or a perfect mid-morning treat once the washing is on the line and the vacuum cleaner has done at least half a lap of the house.

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Charlie comes round and while we’re talking about the week, Frances rings up. Before long one has driven off to collect the other and we are four. Four is a long way short of five  but it’s pretty darned wonderful.

For lunch T prepares home made cheese scones and fruit scones to add to chocolate cake, carrot cake,  cherry Bakewells and gingerbread men from the shop. It’s a two times treat. Always special to have the children round and the meal is that perfect balance of simplicity and delight. I eat too much. How can you leave scones uneaten when you know that, within an hour, they will have lost their magnificence?

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Just when the horn of plenty seems to have given out its best, a tray of biscuits comes out of the oven. T has created her own recipe and flavoured these with “The Maharajah’s Chai Hot Chocolate Flakes” from Prestat. As a drink it disappoints. As a flavouring for biscuits it is superb.

I’ve always liked the idea of sweets far more than the reality. Increasingly though, I have taken to them. I’m probably entering the Werther’s Original stage of life and ought to consider taking up fly fishing or making model aeroplanes. I’ll leave them on hold for…ever… but settle for becoming something of a lover of sweets.

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This week it’s midget gems, bonbons and raspberry fizz balls. It’s nice to re-visit childhood. There are a lot of forgotten memories and eating sweets helps them to re-emerge.

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That’s the Saturday indulgence. The rest of the week is a continuation of the no meat, healthy Lenten diet we have set ourselves. There is no sense of doing without. We are eating in a different way. Never greedily but always with savour and enjoyment. Fruit, Shredded Wheat or toast and marmalade make up almost all the breakfasts. Apples are plentiful and cheap in the shops. Conference pears are very good indeed this week. I don’t know if they have been stored or imported but they are first rate. Bananas have become an absolute necessity.

It is no bind at all to swap puddings for fruit and we both feel the benefit.

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Asparagus is coming. The early stuff is grown under polythene and some say that it lacks the true flavour. I am not discerning enough to be able to tell. What I do know is that we have had a lot of asparagus already and will continue to enjoy it as long as it remains on the shelves. It was practically unknown when I was growing up. Along with smoked salmon it has been passed down from the high table to be enjoyed by anyone who cares for good flavours and textures.

This is a simple soup but neither of us can remember enjoying a soup more. Onion, celery, unpeeled new potatoes, garlic, pepper and a bunch of asparagus are sweated down (I reserved the tips). Add water and a teaspoon of good vegetable bouillon powder and simmer for twenty minutes. Blitz with a hand blender and add the tips. Simmer for a further five minutes. It’s nice to be cooking again and this tastes of spring when served with bread and a swirl of double cream.

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Pudding comes in attractive bio-degradable packaging

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I’m getting used to the routine of not going out to work. I write for about three hours a day, read for a further two, walk Jolly (the time when I do my best thinking), and find time to enjoy both the process and product of some simple cooking at lunch time. T doesn’t like seafood much, so lunch is an ideal time to make things like this seafood paella. I’m learning to cater for one (100g of rice is plenty). The prawns, squid and mussels come pre packed and frozen from the supermarket. It’s an economical way to enjoy the taste of the sea.

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Tuesday night is cinema night this week. Simple red salmon (tinned) and lettuce sandwiches make a quick and easy tea before we go. We see Labor Day and wonder if we missed something. It has the makings of a good film but the elements don’t adhere. It drags and leaves us unimpressed.

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Wednesday we do without the main course and just have pudding. Vanilla ice cream with some Italian biscotti and a banana. If this is fasting for Lent then we are fasting in a palace of luxury.

 

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I like noodles. I like the name and the reality. I was reminded of a favourite noodle bar in Greenwich recently. Going there for my lunch used to make me feel very happy. We’d all pitch in together and sit around big wooden tables and eat huge bowls of tasty noodle dishes topped with prawn crackers and spring onion. On Thursday I recreate the experience at home and two cats and a dog help the communal spirit. These noodles are fully vegetarian. Who needs meat when you can get mushrooms? The sauce is an experiment but works superbly. A mix of balsamic, soy and toasted sesame with a small squirt of tomato ketchup.

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Monday had been cream cheese and bagels. The first ones had smoked salmon. That had all gone but capers make a tasty alternative. (If you like capers).

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It’s quite a while since I made anything spicy. Not only does spicy food excite the tastebuds but I’m sure it has a good affect on health. Here a tin of little chickpeas forms the centrepiece for a curry that is served with some flatbreads and nothing else. No effort, no fuss, no leftovers.

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From the back of a cupboard come a box of Milk Tray. They had been bought on special offer and put on one side. They are not the greatest chocolate selection if you are after sophistication. They are exactly the chocolates I would have wanted as a twelve year old. We’ve been dipping into them since Wednesday and are not yet down to the second layer.

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The local bakery has some special cupcakes for Mother’s Day. I’m not over-impressed with cupcakes. The ratio of icing to cake is preposterously out of balance but they do look splendid; and it’s only once a year.

 

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Categories

  • A Cyclist on the Celtic Fringe
  • A Jaunt into The West Country
  • A Journey into Scotland
  • A-Z of England 2014
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  • Mostly Concerning Food
  • Music and Theatre
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Aberystwyth Alan Ladd Aldi asparagus Ballinasloe Barrow in Furness Betty's Bicycle bicycle tour Bill Bryson Birr Bonnie Prince Charlie Caithness Cardigan Carlisle Charles Lapworth Chesterfield Chris Bonnington claire trevor Cumberland Sausage Cumbria Cycle tour of England cycle tour of ireland Cycle tour of Scotland Cycle tour of Wales Cycling Derbyshire Dumfries Eli Wallach England Glencoe Halfords Ireland James Coburn James Hutton james stewart John Ford john wayne kedgeree Kilkenny Kris Kristofferson Lake District lidl Mark Wallington National Cycle Network New Ross Newtown Newtownstewart Northern Ireland Offaly Oscar Wilde pancakes Risotto Robert Burns Roscommon Scotland Scrambled eggs Shakespeare Shrewsbury Slieve Bloom Mountains Sligo Sperrin Mountains Staffordshire stagecoach Sutherland tagliatelle The Magnificent Seven Thomas Hardy Thurso ulverston vegetarian Waitrose Wales Wexford Yorkshire

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