Monday, 14 August 2017

DUNKIRK: A review

I recognise I'm pretty late to this party but last week I saw Dunkirk and regardless of anything else it was a lesson in cinematography.

WARNING: MANY SPOILERS

I'll admit I was affected by location and circumstance. The day before I had made that same journey, to Dunkirk and then on to Paris with my 10 year old godson, albeit we went under, not over the ocean. Travelling on the metro we saw signs for the film with its French spelling (Dunkerque) and I thought about how a French director or screenwriter might have written a slightly different film.

I went to see the film when I was staying with my parents, at a budget friendly, no frills cinema on Canvey Island. Driving to and from the cinema I drove along that same coastline that had sent the little fishing boats from Leigh on Sea to their heroic adventure; the story of the Dunkirk flotilla is written into our local story. Both the French and Essex experiences helped a long-distant event feel very present to me.

And that's to say nothing of the cinematography. There are some political aspects to this film which I will come around to, but first I want to tell you about the incredible creativity that was poured out on this highly stylised film quite so effectively.

Blue and Grey

Colour and musical tone were used to great effect. Everything was different shades of blue and grey for a long time; despair was played out in monochrome monotony - the sea and sky became indistinguishable at the horizon and I really believed like the men at sea that maybe help was never coming. This was echoed in Hans Zimmer's score - all minor chords and constant suspense. Christopher Nolan is well known for his use of the Shepard tone - its a corkscrew effect that makes you feel as if the music is constantly climbing and it sets your teeth on edge - he uses it to good effect in this film.



But when the fleet of ships arrive all of this changes the little boat is full of colour - the sailor's jumper, the hull of the boat, the women on the other ships - warm reds and oranges explode onto the screen in this triumph of hope. This glory is reflected in the music which changes to major and we get this brief reprieve from the Shepard Tone. This is epitomised in the final flight of Farrier to Elgar's Nimrod - all major chords and full colour; hope for the soldiers and for us.



Our glorious past?

Whilst the majority of the film feels hopeless and disastrous and not at all glamorous I would define it as a patriotic film. Through thoroughly limited dialogue a large emphasis is put on the role of 'home', and putting Churchill's words into the mouth of an ordinary soldier was very effective at underlining the sacrifice of 'the few'. It did make every body out to be heroes - Nolan shows some awareness of this in the heroic write up of George, killed by his own side but declared a war hero in the paper, but the rest of the film argues against this. Commander Bolton chooses to 'wait for the French' at the end of the film instead of getting the boat home, he chooses certain death; although Dad pointed out to me this is a charming nod to the 50's films I felt it was a bit dramatic.

The issue I take with this film is the effect it had on me, I left the cinema thinking, 'you know what we need? A jolly good war!'. And that scares me because I am by nature a fairly peaceful soul; somebody more prone to conflict would be easily fired up by the narrative.

Like any story you do have to simplify the facts for the sake of a good story, but I agree with Sharmal that there was significant white-washing in this film - and the featured token person of colour was tokenism exemplified. Although the stance taken by Nolan on this was inline with the narrative we are told in schools there was a real opportunity here to tell less known stories; it is a shame that opportunity was missed.

In summary this is a powerful piece of cinema, expertly composed, that will rightly win many awards; entertainment does not always have to be educational - and it certainly was an education in cinematography - but I do wish we had been told a story of somebody new that recognised the complexity of war, rather than glorification of the armed forces.


Friday, 26 May 2017

Middle-class, middle-aged bank holidays: Renishaw Hall and Derbyshire

Well folks its true, being suspiciously close to being both middle-class and middle-age I spent my last Bank Holiday in the only way I know how: visiting a country pile!

Edith Sidwell's birthplace
Renishaw Hall was built in 1625 and is still a family home today. Some of its most famous inhabitants were the Sitwell trio - Edith, Sacheverell and Osbert - they grew up there in the late 19th century. They were an eccentric bunch but they helped to cultivate lots of famous artists you may have heard of; Dylan Thomas, Aldous Huxley, and William Walton. You can see the remnants of these relationships in their special museum; in an excerpt from one of Walton's letters the handwriting looks rather like my Dad's!




The house itself is still a family home and only open on Fridays during the Summer season. This is no problem though if the weather is good as the courtyard and museum are open and so are the incredible gardens. We saw a meadow rammed with bluebells, a rose-covered walkway and lots of tulips in the walled gardens. Private houses are better than National Trust properties in that they offer you that extra layer of liberty; there was very little signage to moderate and interfere with your experience of the property especially around the lake. We spent at least 3 hours here just enjoying the gardens and surrounding area, thoroughly recommend.

Bakewell (tarts and puddings)
A fortnight ago my sister and I spent the afternoon in Bakewell. The town lent its name to the famous tart which today is presented coated in icing and a glacé cherry on top. I, however, am always looking for the most authentic experience possible and so we sought out an original bakewell pudding. There are at least three wooden-beamed establishments selling this Victorian dish; we decided to purchase a small pudding to share (top left) and two more modern tart slices (middle right) - but not with icing or a cherry on the top. As you might expect the pudding is a more dense dessert and the almonds were chopped more roughly than its contemporary equivalent but both tasted pretty good.



Looking beyond the puddings, if possible, Bakewell is a small town of some beauty with local cheeses and a farm store. It also plenty of big brand stores you'd expect in a national park: Boots, Fatface etc. and we found a great cafe attached to a book shop; tea and new books, my favourite!

Tideswell: Cathedral in the Peak
When driving along the A623 I kept seeing signs for 'Tideswell and Cathedral in the Peak'. So, on the way home from Matlock and with a spare half an hour, I turned left to explore the little Derbyshire village. A medieval market town famous for lead mining, Tideswell is now home to about 2000 people. The church of St John the Baptist is at the centre of the village, it is a grade 1 listed building but is not technically a Cathedral. The church is ancient and was a dissenting parish in the thirteenth century. The pew ends and misericords have been carved with some interesting carvings some depicting baptism and confirmation, and this lady doing the monster mash!



Why not explore Derbyshire this May Bank Holiday? It has so much to offer!

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

My adopted city

The people of my adopted city are made of sterner stuff
There is coal within their bones
I think it got there during years of outdoor PE in the rain
That sort of stuff makes you tough

You can laugh at southerners in coats on nights out in January; you’re made of sterner stuff.

The people of my adopted city have tea within their veins.
‘Would you like a brew?’ passes for ‘how are you?’
And its rude to say, no you don’t like hot drinks…

And there’s little that can’t be fixed with a cup of tea and a listening ear.

The people of my adopted city know there is muscle in unity.
Whether you’re United or City; humanist or theist,
If you live on its streets you are family, you are welcome.

You are already in community.

My adopted city of coal, tea and unity
Took a hit yesterday to our most vulnerable spot
It would be easy to retreat to our trenches and forget our coal, tea and unity...


Thankfully Mancunians are made of sterner stuff.

Saturday, 1 April 2017

Fathers and Sons (and daughters)

I have been thinking a lot about relationships between parents and their children lately. Originally I thought this was about the fact it was Mother's Day then I took a closer look at the TV series, books and music I'd been listening to and realised lots of people are thinking about family relationships and their impact.

Fathers and Sons: Howard Cunnell
Recently radio 4 featured Cunnell's memoir as their book of the week - you get to hear a 15 minute snippet of the book each day - catch up HERE. Fathers and Sons is about Howard - how his father-less childhood shaped him, and the relationship with his step-daughter as she becomes the man she was always meant to be. I really enjoyed the descriptions early on of him brushing his tom-boy daughter's hair - and referencing Gary Synder's poem 'Axe Handles'. The thought here is that we become like our forebears through example; when you are making a new axe handle you have the example in your hands! Cunnell provides plenty of food for thought about traits that can be inherited through nurture not just genetics.




ROOTS: American miniseries
I have just back from an adventure in America and it has ignited a real interest in American history in me. As such I was thrilled to discover this remake of ROOTS on iPlayer adapted from a book written in the 1970's. The story follows the fortunes of four generations of the same family travelling from Gambia, to North Carolina - whilst it focuses on the impact of slavery also touches on other topics like the American Revolutionary War.

Despite their lives being physically owned by other people Kunta Kinte and his descendants assert their own identity by holding a naming ceremony for newborns under the stars. Kunta was a brave and clever man, always planning a way to escape; he teaches his daughter how to mount horses and how to read, this key skill is passed down from one generation to another for the daughters as much as the sons. We also see the same ingenuity and charisma we saw in Kunta Kinte has been passed all the way down to his grandson George who raises chickens and his great-grandson who becomes a blacksmith and eventually a freeman. Kunta and his descendants may have been enslaved but they continued to live their true identities beneath the surface; and Kunta becomes a mythical model who lends his descendants strength in times of trial.

(Credit: BBC)

Dear Theodosia: Hamilton the Musical
I am obsessed with Hamilton at the moment, particularly the mixtape and particularly this track 'Dear Theodosia'. This song is put in the mouth primarily of Aaron Burr. Burr married a woman 10 years his senior who died 12 years into their marriage, and their only surviving child was named after her, a girl called Theodosia. When Theodosia lost her mother Aaron Burr took on the mantle for ensuring she is educated in the social graces of 18th century society but also the more masculine disciplines of arithmetic, Latin and Greek. In the song Burr is joined by Hamilton singing about his son Philip, both Burr and Hamilton reflect on the absence of father's in their lives and a desire to make an America that will enable them to be successful. Whilst Burr was very present in his daughter's life, Hamilton is portrayed as being absent; despite this his son Philip becomes a man very much in his father's mould - with tragic consequences.

(Credit: Joan Marcus)

And thus concludes my review of three stories of Fathers doing their best by the sons and daughters!

Monday, 6 February 2017

Cartmel: the rebellious parish

One of the great joys of being an adopted Northerner - beside chips and gravy, not needing a mortgage to buy a beer etc. - is the proximity of the wonderful Lake District. A few weeks ago I drove up to Cartmel and Grange-over-Sands for the weekend and had the opportunity to explore the rebellious village. In 2001 Cartmel was deep in the foot-and-mouth crisis - now it is a foodie paradise - rated the 44th best place in the world ahead of the Himalayas!

Getting to Cartmel today is no real trial; you can board a bus, cross the Kent Channel on a train, drive up the M60 and down the A590 - it is two sides of a triangle but you don't feel as if you are taking your life in your hands! It has not always been like this. Before the arrival of the railways getting to Cartmel was very difficult - by land, you took your life in your hands on the trackways through the hills, and by water you faced the treacherous sands.

The Kings Arms: and chariots

Cartmel Priory

The story goes that Cartmel Priory was built on a site between 2 rivers - one flowing north, and one flowing south - at the request of William Marshall in the late twelfth century. Since that time the priory has been swapped between Dioceses, belonging at times to Lancashire, and now to Carlisle. You get the impression that perhaps no-one wanted responsibility for them, that they were troublesome, or certainly a little bit naughty. This strength of will was illustrated during the dissolution of the monasteries when the Cartmel parishioners prevented dissolution by Henry VIII's men claiming the building was the parish church - although this cost them the lives of 4 monks and 10 villagers - they won the case and were left alone.

There is little written evidence for a building that is quite so old - much of the written record was destroyed in the dissolution and is shared between 3 or 4 county libraries. This was a bit frustrating. But they've got some fifteenth century choir stalls and misericords which were pretty to look at.

The priory is well worth a look if you're in the area  - you'll know it by its distinctive twisted spire.

Twisted Spire

Priory Nave

The Gatehouse Bookshop

Cartmel is a 'chocolate-box' village it has country pubs and coffee shops, little cottages - it is picturesque. One of the first things I noticed on driving through the village was the Gatehouse built in 1330 as part of a wall to defend the village and priory from Scottish raiders. Built into this nice piece of architecture is a real wonder - if you know me at all, you will know what I saw that could invoke such awe...a bookshop! They've been selling books there since 1933 and have a stock of over 10,000 books. Did I buy a book?! Is the Pope Catholic?! It is an anthology of poetry printed in 1912 featuring illustrations by William Hyde and it has swallows on the front. That was enough to sell it to me for the princely sum of £8, but it does also contain poems by Shelley, Yeats and Shakespeare and a dedication 'To B' - as if it were meant for me. 'The Open Road' takes its rightful place in my library.

Illustrations by William Hyde
The Open Road

Sticky Toffee Pudding

It might surprise you to learn that this quintessential British pudding is not as old as the hills, it is a product of the 1970's, but it was born in Cumbria and I do believe in eating regional specialties when the occasion arises. Cartmel Sticky Toffee Puddings are sold nationwide in most supermarkets - the Rolls Royce of such puddings - but a trip to the village takes you right to the home of this delicious dessert in the village shop. Needless to say I bought some and devoured it over two evenings.



Thursday, 19 January 2017

Lala Land: Nostalgia and Nationalism

WARNING THIS POST DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS

This week I decided to face Blue Monday head-on and have a self-indulgent evening at the cinema watching La La Land. It was a lovely night, and its true to say the score from the film is still stuck with me 48 hours later. Watching the film has made me quite excited to see Los Angeles in real life in a few months time. I liked the nods to 'Singing in the Rain' and old school cinema; like 500 days of Summer, a romantic-comedy with a few plot-twists is enough for a Monday night's entertainment.

That said whilst I enjoyed it; for me it wasn't a knock-out, world-changer of a movie. Introducing multiple styles of narration at the end for the 'alternative future' epilogue sequence didn't fit the style of the film; and similarly the flying sequence at the Observatory was a bit weird. For me, the film was too long, lagging at about the 90 minute mark; and some of Sebastian's dialogue and actions made me feel a bit uncomfortable - he's a modern man with 50's values, in places.

Mine is a minority opinion among the chosen audience, Millennial women; the majority of whom do seem to think it is the best thing to hit the big screen in a long time. This got me thinking about why a film that channels so much old-fashioned nostalgia - for 'pure' jazz, 50's musicals, old-fashioned romance and pursuit of the dream goes down so well; I think it has a lot to do with the rise of nationalism and the fear of the future for Millennials.

Nationalism
There is a lot of fear going about right now in English speaking countries - the threat of terrorism, the rise of the far-right, concern about the erosion of human rights. With all this at stake it becomes politic to create a national identity from what might be a disparate whole, to bring 'us' together, so we can be different from 'them'.

In the Victorian era they looked to King Alfred the Great, and Elizabeth I as common ancestors, 'grandparents to us all'. They are not, and were not our common ancestors, but their statues started popping up everywhere as 'people we could all get behind'. The Saxons themselves looked to gods to combine the disparate lineages of their various kings into one genealogy. The writing of the Wagner cycle in the 1800's strikingly coincides with the creation of Modern Germany as one nation from many principalities; and was then celebrated by, to invoke Godwin's law, Nazi Germans in their rise to power.

I am not arguing that La la Land is propaganda, but I think there is a lot about La la Land that says, 'here is some harmless shared culture we can all get behind; located in a time and place you recognise'. I remain unconvinced that is a reasonable premise. The only person of colour to be given a major role is John Legend; and he plays a sell-out musician trying to persuade Sebastian to give up on the 'purity' of jazz. There is also a bit too much mansplaining from Seb to Mia for my liking. Maybe it is not such a harmless shared culture after all?

Millennials
According to Strauss-Howe theory Millennials are civic heroes. I recognise this in me and my friends; primarily we are educated, Guardian reading people, we want to save the world one veg box at a time, with organic milk, in our hipster lattes. We are environmentally and socially conscious beings; keen that our money is invested ethically, and that there will be a world for the next generation to grow up in. But the nature of that world seems uncertain; and so there is a swing towards tradition, more people are getting married and looking to put down solid roots in their communities, investing in local projects often with only socio-ethical incentives. Part of this is due to the context we have grown up in, and part of it is due to the world we face; its big and scary, and not necessarily how we would have made it given half the chance.

La la land is not the only film offering Millennials a warm fluffy nostalgia blanket harking back to a kinder past; have you noticed how many Disney remakes have been released lately, and more to come with  Beauty and the Beast due to be released later this year? These films offer reassurance and solace to those of us facing adult challenges, who grew up with the original releases in the 90's when our only concerns were how to steal the popcorn from our friends and siblings.

Just to be clear...
If La La Land made you smile, if you enjoyed the romance of it all, if you forgot to worry about all your grown-up concerns for 2 hours, me too! I think I will still be humming along to the score into next week. But please, don't just enjoy the cosiness of La La Land, continue to fight for whatever passion project is in your heart; especially if it promotes inclusivity, and inter-generational kindnesses in an increasingly polarised world.



Tuesday, 10 January 2017

Team Yellow: Hufflepuff and Liberal Democrats

Well friends, it is official - in both the political and wizarding world, I am Team Yellow; I have done the Pottermore quiz so it must be true. Seeing as one of my school nicknames was 'Bec the Red' for my famously left of centre views, this may come as a surprise to some. This result would have surprised the Adventurous Wilkinson of just 5 years ago though, who would have said Gryffindor and its associated hues were the colour of choice in both domains - I even have the jogging bottoms to prove it!

Dear Rebecca Citizen

My first forays into the world of politics (beyond my own front-door) occurred when ODEON built a cinema on top of a park in our town centre. My 8-year old self was very concerned as to where all the retail workers would now be able to spend their lunch breaks so I wrote to the council about it and signed the letter - Rebecca, Citizen - because I was a precocious little whatsit! The council worker who replied pointed out that there was another park town workers could relax in, but did genuinely believe my surname was citizen.  Since then I have sent other letters to governmental people and offices regarding; building a bypass over the grave of a Saxon king, provision for rough sleepers in Central Manchester and most recently the way asylum seekers are treated at interview. I believe in writing letters, and offering innovative solutions if you have any.

Loyal. Patient. Fair

You might have seen the facebook wraps on people's profile pictures recently declaring their Harry Potter House. When I took the test on Pottermore a few months ago I was sure I would come out as 'Gryffindor: Courage. Bravery. Determination'. I was so shocked to come out 'Hufflepuff: Loyal. Patient. Fair'; not least as I model myself in part on Dick King-Smith's Sophie (who is 'small and very determined') but also because Hufflepuffs seemed a bit dim, and peripheral in the Harry Potter Universe -  I am certainly centre stage of my own narrative!                                                                                     That said now Newt Scamander's day has come, perhaps the Hufflepuff star is in ascendance. If Hufflepuffs are 'loyal. patient.fair' I suppose there are worse things to be; I am not all that patient but I am a loyal friend, and fierce about justice which on a Sunday afternoon with a cup of tea I concede could be defined as 'fair'.

Liberal Democrat

I am not one for facebook debates about politics, I rarely even share petitions - its just not my thing. I find confrontation uncomfortable and would much rather have a reasoned discussion one-to-one with you; preferably with some cake present. But as I mentioned, I have joined the Lib Dems. As someone from a Labour background, and a student during the infamous 'tuition fees' election choosing Team Yellow might come as a surprise but for what its worth, here is why I made the leap and joined.

1. Crying in the wilderness has its place, but so does working inside political systems.
2. The positive influence the Lib Dems had whilst sharing power has become increasingly apparent to me since 2015.
3. Lib Dems have a genuinely democratic approach to creating policy. Any member can table a motion, it gets debated and then voted on. If the motion passes that member's policy becomes Lib Dem policy.
4. Sometimes small can be beautiful (and efficient) ;)
5. For parliament to thrive you need credible opposition, not infighting factions. 
6. My values are most in-line with an inclusive, liberal party.

Have you considered taking political action of some kind recently? If yes what was the catalyst that moved you to take action? Do you prefer to work outside the system, through lobbying and protest, or within the party system, why? And finally, were you sorted into a wizarding house that surprised you? How have you dealt with that? Can I still wear my Gryffindor jogging bottoms? Thanks.


Friday, 6 January 2017

Mallorca: croissants, cathedrals and sunshine

Its Autumn so its obviously time for another trip for some Spanish sun. I left my house at 5am to spend some time in my favourite sunny place, Mallorca.

I made the most of the fact my host was busy in the day to do lots of touristing. I visit the Museum of Mallorca and pondered why Santa Lucia held a box with eyes in and why John the Baptist looked like a rasta. Next up on this cultural tour is the Arab Baths - there's not much to actually see here; but there are some nice gardens to soak up some vitamin D.

Garden at the Arab Baths

I found some lunch and 'ate the view' it always amazes me how beautiful even the water bottles are here. Whilst wondering around after lunch I fell into a bookshop. This is a frequent threat to my productivity but being on holiday I did not hold up much resistance. The English Bookshop in Palma is a truly unique experience; run by an eccentric Englishman who will offer you a side of conspiracy theory with your sale. He seems to actually live amongst the three floors of bookshop encased in an old fashioned house if the bathroom and hand-drawn nudes in the basement beside Russian history are anything to go by. I bought two leather bound books, Vanity Fair and some old stories about Cambridgeshire.

This time my trip was punctuated by lighthouses and pastry-stops. I was introduced to Lluis Perez' phenomenal pastries and we had the conversation yet again about carob and whether it made a more suitable horse treat than warm mash, apples or sugar lumps. On the light-house front we took trips to the north to Pollencia and Cap de Formentor via the Arab Medieval walled-town of Alcudia. And a hike to Cap de Cala Figuera in the south. Both picturesque in their own ways.

Cap de Formentor

Cap de Cala Figuera

I visited Palma Cathedral for the first time this year. The treasury was of some interest and the main cathedral was a peaceful space. I enjoyed the way the light played upon the organ.


This year was also a first for independent bus travel. I am amazed at how technology has improved such that in a foreign land you can board a bus and get where you want to go - if you pronounce it right - and all along you can see your exact location. I traveled from the airport by bus and also to and from the aquarium and felt very accomplished.

Finally, I know you're dying to know, yes I did have my annual ice cream - this time in November and tasted so good - the weather was unseasonably mild even for Mallorca. I also enjoyed a lazy afternoon at the beach once I had explained to the beach combing massage lady that no, I didn't want her to touch me and no, I didn't want a massage! Talk about a miscommunication!

Ice cream
Reading at the beach

Needless to say I hope to return and discover even more of this beautiful island.

Romanian Adventure with my Dad

In August, Dad and I embarked on one of our joint-ventures. I love to explore new places and he loves heritage railways, we travel to places that cater to both our needs (see for reference - Poznan, Vienna etc.) this time we got out of the boat one step further and went to Romania.

Iași (yash)

We arrived in the intellectual city of Iași in the early afternoon. We caught a cab to the city centre and immediately realised how much further our money would go than in England. We stayed at the Grand Hotel Trajan and I enjoyed feeling really posh and like I was in a Wes Anderson film at the same time. Iași is a pretty place to spend time; it has some modern buildings but many gothic buildings, and a town-hall that looks like it is out of Disney. We found people to be very courteous in this university-town.

Riding old school trams
Rural life in Suceava region and beyond

The following day our hosts (my London house-mates) came to pick us up and we began the long drive to Vicovu. We passed many horse and cart pairs harvesting hay. In rural Romania people are very self-sufficient. Most families have reclaimed land since communism and use it to produce the freshest of produce. Whilst we were there we ate fresh tomatoes, quails eggs, local chicken, aubergines, even ice-cream. I watched Dad visibly relax in the Romanian world; people still believe in fixing broken machines there, and respecting their elders.  We were really touched to meet the parents of our friends who were also our neighbours; we overcame language barriers partly through a book about trains, and the common purpose of fixing a chicken-feeder.

Dads fixing the chicken feeder

Heritage Rail, Salt Mine and local heritage

If you like industrial history there is oceans to get stuck into in the area. Dad's motivation on coming to Romania was to visit the Mocanita la Moldovita - it is famous with his friends even in England. Dad helped the guys fuel the engine, lapped up the ride too and from and even got a cab ride on the way home.The guys were so impressed by Dad's enthusiasm and help they even gave him the mobile number of the Austrian who set it all up! I mainly took in all the views including these slightly risky looking bridges.

Bucovina Rail

Bridge

There are other adventures to have. We spent a morning down the salt mine at Mina Cacita-Suceava; the caves have been used to store cheese and mushrooms, play football matches and even as an underground ballroom!

Underground ballroom
Suceava has some gems to visit too. We went to the Bucovina Village Museum - where they have brought 30 houses from across the region and centuries to one place. You can tour them and learn more about the history of the region. I learned lots, but remain terrifying of the mourning house complete with wailing statues. My personal highlight of the trip was a late night trip to the Castle of Stefan - we had it all to ourselves and there was minimal interruption from little plaques explaining what everything us. Castles at night-time can be magical!

so much magic

The area of Suceava is famed for its UNESCO protected monasteries, we visited a few. It is certainly true that some of them have beautiful painted walls but the experience of these spaces was possibly the most alien of all our time in Romania. Neither Dad nor I have had much exposure to Eastern Orthodox practice and it felt unfamiliar. That said, I bought a beautiful hand-painted icon of Jesus at one of the monasteries, he is installed above my bed and was the inspiration for a lot of my bedroom design.

A first class rail journey?

There are not many opportunities to experience first class rail travel in my English life. So when the opportunity arose to cross Romania in a first class sleeper coach we jumped at the chance. The majority of the trip felt like a really luxurious trip into the past. That is until about 7am the following morning when the train came to a halt. After 2 hours of sitting still there was a bang on the door and the guard said 'You English need to leave'. We were so scared of what was going on; descending the carriage Dad fell to the track and I watched our whole trip flash before my eyes, we eventually boarded a standard class train, via absolutely everywhere, and Dad stood for 45 mins til a seat became available. We eventually learned where we were through my GPS and what the problem was, localised flooding as evident from the window. We did get to Bucharest eventually but we did also reward ourselves with a McDonalds. 

Our impressive cabin
Flooding the railways




















Bucharest

We spent our last 48 hours before the journey home in Bucharest. To be honest I think we were spoiled by Iași and Suceava, in that we found Bucharest to be noisy and a bit too 'lively' for us. For dinner we went to Caru cu bere - the inside is a finely painted beer hall with live musicians and everything, but we were happy to cut the queues and sit outside. With full bellies we fell asleep and the next day flew home.

Gara de Nord





A jaunt to West Cumbria

Sometimes you just have to pack up your bags and go on an adventure. On this occasion in high Summer I made the most of living substantially closer to the Lake District than I ever have before and checked in to Muncaster Castle for three nights. Yes, you did hear me right, I became a princess for a few days.

Muncaster Castle
Alright, you don't actually stay in the castle but in the old stables, that said the breakfast is fit for royalty and you get to explore all 77 acres of its grounds once all the tourists have gone home. I thoroughly enjoyed sitting watching all the birds, reading my book and drinking cups of tea beside the castle cannons.

Muncaster Castle

Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway
Being my father's daughter if there is a heritage railway to ride you will find me on it. The engines and coaches are in miniature and the station serves ice-cream. If that is not enough to tempt you, at the other end at Eskdale you will find rural walks and waterfalls! I felt very accomplished climbing to see those.

Tenacity and Waterfalls

Bathhouses and Pepper Pots
Western Cumbria, where the mountains meet the sea, is a place that oozes history fused with natural landscape - an obvious choice for me. I climbed a hill to the 'Pepper Pot' the historic site of a beacon now featuring an odd structure formally known as Stainton Tower. I got very close to the beacon itself, but was deterred from the final push by this gathering of cattle. Despite bearing a name meaning 'heifer' I was not equal to taking them on (more on this later) and settled for a gorgeous view and the opportunity to take arty shots with my bag.

When cattle were 'the enemy'
Always.















The following day I took the coastal road down to the ruins of some Roman baths. The colours I saw inspired the theme for my library at home. I can quite see that if you were a soldier a long way from home, the view out the window of the rolling waves whilst you strigle-d your way to cleanliness, would have been quite something. On my way back up the hill toward the castle I met a cow - this time safely behind a fence. So I took the opportunity to sing her a full verse of 'I'm still standing' and then had steak for tea...I like to think I won that battle 2-1.


Bathhouse

Furness Abbey
On the way home from the Lakes I popped in on a couple of sites of historical interest. I went to the church at Gosforth which has the Gosforth Cross (massive, so much bigger than the pictures), the fisherman's stone and several hog-backs in pristine condition. Then I drove on to Furness Abbey - in the early Medieval Period the people who lived at Furness were some of the most powerful people in the northern world. This is a strange concept to people in the North West who seem to associate Barrow in Furness with dilapidation and despair.

Gosforth Cross
Gosforth hogbacks















At Furness I bought among other things - an Ordinance Survey of Ancient Britain. I really am going to become like my Dad from now on; arranging tea breaks on long journeys around how many sites of interest I can find!

Furness Abbey



I'm baaaack!

Hello Everybody!

A long time ago (nearly two years in fact!) I used to keep a regular blog here. It all began when I was writing my MA Dissertation and all the fascinating thoughts and feelings wouldn't fit into the paragraphs. In this post I'll do my best to catch you up on all the developments; mainly geographical.

When you last saw me here I was living in London in a lovely little place near Hampstead Heath; it was so gorgeous that every year upwards of 250 visitors would come and look in one weekend. Loving worshipping with the St Lukes Community and I was halfway through a near year-long challenge not to leave the country. If you knew me during my previous blogging life you'll have known how difficult I found that. But I did save some money and go on several interesting UK holidays to Wiveliscombe, and Woodbridge.
The Wivey Washer!
Then I broke my 'abroad-ban' and went to Hamburg. That was a great adventure involving driving a hire car the wrong way down a dual-carriageway, a row-boat on the Alster, and nipping up to Hedeby re-enactment village. More here.

Messing about on the Alster

The next big change was I moved city; with one bag and two people's phone numbers I boarded the train to Manchester. This was a seismic shift for me at the time and very much a tale of God's goodness. More on that here.

Aware that Manchester was cold and wet, I booked a trip to perpetual Summer in Mallorca with one of my best friends. More on that here.

Tramutana

 Jan - June 2016 I enjoyed renting a house in Sale, owning a car, learning to play roller derby and hosting various people in Manchester. I was best woman at a wedding up the OXO Tower in London which was very special. I did take a brief trip to the Isle of Man in search of Vikings in February, and I was not disappointed - more here.

Maps and a guide published in 1917

In July I took a brief break to the West Lake District; it was a really restful time, I stayed in a castle and visited Furness Abbey on the way home. More here.

In August Dad and I went off on one of our adventures to Romania - we did a mixture of independent exploring and being well looked after by my old housemates. This one includes heritage steam railways and travelling 1st class sleeper across country. More here.

Romanian City Life, Iasi
Romanian Countryside












In September I bought my first house. Its a 2-bed Edwardian terrace and needs a lot of love and care. As I write some lovely gentlemen are installing a wood-burner to my 'adventure lounge'. I have this thing about a fire being the heart of a house. And looking forward to hearing the heart-beat soon. I have become a bit of a house-bore so I can't promise some of that won't over-spill here.

At the end of October I went back to Mallorca and enjoyed ice-cream in November - it wasn't incongruous at all. More here.

Then in December I was a bridesmaid at a wedding in Cambridge and it was a bit strange being back in central Cambridge after so long away but a lovely weekend surrounded by good friends.

And that just about gets us to now. I have been doing a lot of thinking and discussing of late with my many pen-pals, online friends and real-life-in-person friends and it just seemed like a good time to revive this blog. So if you're new - you are welcome, and if you're an old friend - welcome back!