Cumbria
I've been on vacation from work this past week, which means I've also taken a break from reading the papers. Figures, then, that THIS WEEK would be the week when election fever takes off and a weirdy ash thing in Iceland causes mayhem. It's tough to adjust to a reality where the Lib Dems are making strides (they are? really? I mean, YAY! but... they are? really?) when you are chronically uninformed.
(Don't misunderstand, of course. I carved from my schedule, like, three hours today in order to catch up on ontd_skating. I know my priorities. Brian Orser as James Bond!!!1)
Anyway, I spent most of the week in the Lake District. I went to visit my sister (and her cat... mostly her cat), not in order to have the classic Lake District tourist experience. If that had been my intent, boy would I have been disappointed.
visiting Beatrix Potter historical sites: FAILURE
Beatrix Potter had a house near Lake Windermere, called Hilltop. Apparently it's a HUGE draw for Japanese tourists. I wasn't prepared to pay the extortionate price to go inside the house, so my sister and I figured we'd go late in the day and just poke around the garden (free). Alas, there were conservation works going on, so all the entrances to the garden were padlocked.
Undeterred, we found a nearby track, which did admittedly say "no public right of way", but whatever, the gate wasn't locked. So we wandered around the back of Hilltop. And spent entirely too long getting this charming picture of me approaching Hilltop.
Charming. (...Not really.)
I think if we hadn't spent so long doing this, we might have been able to make it round and vault the fence into Hilltop's garden. Instead, a grumpy old farmer appeared and told us to get off his land. Uh, oops.
In fairness, I still managed to get the picture I wanted:
Hilltop. Isn't this picture serene? You really can't tell that literally as I was taking it, the farmer started yelling at me.
To top off the slightly shambolic Beatrix Potter experience we went to this attraction (which was clearly downgraded at some point in the past from museum to "attraction"), which featured polystyrene models of classic Potter scenes. It was a bit like a Blue Peter craft project. (Not recommended.)
My sister also forced me to watch the movie Miss Potter, which was basically Bridget Jones: Nineteenth Century Version. SPOILER: Ewan dies. Don't watch it.
visiting William Wordsworth historical sites: FAILURE
William Wordsworth wrote some poem about daffodils and he did so while living near Grasmere. If you are prepared to pay an extortionate sum, you can visit his home, Dove Cottage, which features on display Wordsworth's ice skates* (no really, the tourist guide makes a special note of this, which led me to believe that visiting Dove Cottage is a TOTAL RIP OFF). So we didn't go to Dove Cottage, but we were going to visit the gardens of Rydal Mount, where Wordsworth later moved to. Unfortunately, we arrived 15 minutes after it closed.
*Figure Skating Romantic Poets AU, anyone? Johnny Weir as Lord Byron!
Otherwise, I basically feel like I spent all my time in Cumbria driving (being driven) around with my sister gesticulating and saying, "look at the view! look at the view!" (Haven't done so much driving during a vacation since I went to LA. Ugh. I hate being in the car.)
Windermere.
Eden. (No, really, that's what it's called. I wasn't getting Biblical on you.)
Other dubious highlights of my stay included:
A poetry reading in a church in Grasmere, introduced by Carol Ann Duffy, who seemed like she was (a) drunk or (b) having a stroke. I love Carol Ann Duffy, but I'm not sure being Poet Laureate is being kind to her.
Attending a 'silver screening' (intended for old people, of which Cumbria has many) of I Love You Philip Morris, which, with its prison-set gay love story was not a big draw for the oldies. Although one old man did stoically sit through the whole thing. Maybe he liked it? Personally, I like my comedies not to have incredibly depressing endings, but it was an okay movie.
(Don't misunderstand, of course. I carved from my schedule, like, three hours today in order to catch up on ontd_skating. I know my priorities. Brian Orser as James Bond!!!1)
Anyway, I spent most of the week in the Lake District. I went to visit my sister (and her cat... mostly her cat), not in order to have the classic Lake District tourist experience. If that had been my intent, boy would I have been disappointed.
visiting Beatrix Potter historical sites: FAILURE
Beatrix Potter had a house near Lake Windermere, called Hilltop. Apparently it's a HUGE draw for Japanese tourists. I wasn't prepared to pay the extortionate price to go inside the house, so my sister and I figured we'd go late in the day and just poke around the garden (free). Alas, there were conservation works going on, so all the entrances to the garden were padlocked.
Undeterred, we found a nearby track, which did admittedly say "no public right of way", but whatever, the gate wasn't locked. So we wandered around the back of Hilltop. And spent entirely too long getting this charming picture of me approaching Hilltop.
Charming. (...Not really.)
I think if we hadn't spent so long doing this, we might have been able to make it round and vault the fence into Hilltop's garden. Instead, a grumpy old farmer appeared and told us to get off his land. Uh, oops.
In fairness, I still managed to get the picture I wanted:
Hilltop. Isn't this picture serene? You really can't tell that literally as I was taking it, the farmer started yelling at me.
To top off the slightly shambolic Beatrix Potter experience we went to this attraction (which was clearly downgraded at some point in the past from museum to "attraction"), which featured polystyrene models of classic Potter scenes. It was a bit like a Blue Peter craft project. (Not recommended.)
My sister also forced me to watch the movie Miss Potter, which was basically Bridget Jones: Nineteenth Century Version. SPOILER: Ewan dies. Don't watch it.
visiting William Wordsworth historical sites: FAILURE
William Wordsworth wrote some poem about daffodils and he did so while living near Grasmere. If you are prepared to pay an extortionate sum, you can visit his home, Dove Cottage, which features on display Wordsworth's ice skates* (no really, the tourist guide makes a special note of this, which led me to believe that visiting Dove Cottage is a TOTAL RIP OFF). So we didn't go to Dove Cottage, but we were going to visit the gardens of Rydal Mount, where Wordsworth later moved to. Unfortunately, we arrived 15 minutes after it closed.
*Figure Skating Romantic Poets AU, anyone? Johnny Weir as Lord Byron!
Otherwise, I basically feel like I spent all my time in Cumbria driving (being driven) around with my sister gesticulating and saying, "look at the view! look at the view!" (Haven't done so much driving during a vacation since I went to LA. Ugh. I hate being in the car.)
Windermere.
Eden. (No, really, that's what it's called. I wasn't getting Biblical on you.)
Other dubious highlights of my stay included:
A poetry reading in a church in Grasmere, introduced by Carol Ann Duffy, who seemed like she was (a) drunk or (b) having a stroke. I love Carol Ann Duffy, but I'm not sure being Poet Laureate is being kind to her.
Attending a 'silver screening' (intended for old people, of which Cumbria has many) of I Love You Philip Morris, which, with its prison-set gay love story was not a big draw for the oldies. Although one old man did stoically sit through the whole thing. Maybe he liked it? Personally, I like my comedies not to have incredibly depressing endings, but it was an okay movie.