Wales
Back from Wales. First two nights spent in Hawarden, at St Deiniol's - Gladstone's old library. Possibly the best B&B in Britain. The food was honest British grub such as Cottage Pie or Sunday Steak with classics for pudding, like Spotted Dick and Bread and Butter Pudding, which were all a first for me. It was strangely enjoyable in a Public School kind of way. The food was eaten in the beautiful dining room, with long tables. We were the only "touristy" guests, whereas a bunch of the others where there for the library, which is mainly theological. After dinner (or as the case were, the full English Cooked Breakfast that was served during weekends) you could withdraw to the Common Room for coffee or tea from the buffet and enjoy one of the communal jigsaw puzzles, the collection of lighter reading (any non theological books) or the chess board.
The rooms were pretty enough, and in classic B&B style the loo and bath were communal, which wasn't as much of an inconvenience as I expected, since we had a room furthest down a corridor and most people went to the more central bathrooms, leaving the ones at the end of the corridor more or less to us.
The best bit was the library though. One of the most extensive theological collections in Britain - which didn't fuss me that much - and a collection of donated literature, both factual and fictual, which was available for loan to your room. I read Cold Comfort Farm, which I had previously only seen as a very enjoyable film with adorable Kate Beckinsale.
With Hawarden as our base camp, we met up with Mother in Law2's aunt in Mold and with her as our guide we saw Llangollen, The Horse Shoe Pass and Snowdon.
Auntie B was the kind of little old English Lady that authors think they make up, but that actually exist. She was one of the most amazing people I have ever met. Sweet, kind, indestructible and more up to date with current events than I can boast of being. Cardigan, plaid skirt and bobbed hair, the whole shebang, and a personality that would make anyone just fall in love with her. She had stories from being evacuated during the war that had us in stitches - you kept wanting to hug her and never let her go. If only you could adopt aunties!
After Hawarden, Mold and Auntie B - whom I didn't want to leave at all - it was off back to England. After a lunch stop at a brilliant mountain Inn, that turned out to be the in-official watering hole of the Mountain Rescue, where I had the best Plowman's Lunch ever (I still have wet dreams about the selection of cheeses) we persisted to Chester, where we stayed in the elegedly ghost ridden The Pied Bull. No ghosts - not that I expected any, official skeptic as I am - but half of hour company could boast four poster bed. That half wasn't us, but en suite at least gave the opportunity for a well earned shower.
We decided to go directly home - with a few stops for touristing on the way - so as not to impose on our impromptu cat sitter too long. The original cat sitter got very ill just before we left, but darling E stepped up to the plate and even managed to give our little mess her medicines, which we really didn't feel we could ask from someone who volunteered in the last minute, but which E none the less managed to negotiate down the feline gullet with guile and liver paté.
As I was trying to read the map in What to See in the Lake District I stumbled upon what must be the absolute must see of the Lake District - the Pencil Museum of Keswick. I immediately realized that this was something that must be seen. It's just one of those things that are too nerdy not to do when you have the chance. You have to do it, so you can say you've done it - like reading the phone book on a Saturday night. Geek points, dontcha know?
One does not simply silly walk into Mordor, but it works quite well at the Pencil Museum. Apparently Keswick was once the proud producer of almost all the pencils in Europe, due to the rich findings of graphite in the surrounding mountains. Up until some ingenious soul decided to mine and sell the stuff, it was mainly used for marking sheep, but during the 16th century the pencil was born making the area rich as hell. Apparently the Michaelangelo school of art held its lessons with Keswick Pencils. Soon graphite became so expensive, a black market was born: highwaymen would rob the mine wagons, and Dutch merchant would smuggle the graphite out of Britain on donkey-back. - but it was not for artistic reasons that the Black Gold of Cumbria became such a black market item, it was because the graphite was mighty useful for fashioning canon ball molds, and rustproofing various weapons. So it was not long before the state intervened, and red coats were sent to Cumbria to guard the mines. Soon all the graphite became government property and no pencils were made, only canon balls. This in turn resulted in French ingenuity to come up with an alloy of low grade graphite and clay which serviced as pencils as well, and when the war was over, no one wanted real graphite pencils anymore, since the new kind was cheaper. Keswick dwindled into a market town - these days a tourist town that functions as base camp for hikers and cyclists - of a bit more than 4000 inhabitants - the town hall and tourist centre is accurately named Moot Hall. Pencils are still manufactured by Derwent Enterprises (named after the nearby Derwent Water) but these days the main product is artistic coloured pencils that aren't graphite at all.
The two funniest parts of the tour was the bit of trivia that imparted that the Americans spent tens of thousands of dollars trying to construct a pen that could write in space, whereas the Soviet Kosmonauts simply brought pencils. The other was the "Worlds Longest Pencil" which was A: not a pencil, but a yellow crayon pencil and B: not actually that either since it was a sculpture of a pencil. You could clearly see where the yellow "writey" bit had been inexpertly glued to the not even wooden pencil - not quite fitting. I laughed quite a bit at that.
We then had the inlaws here for two days, using yesterday for an outing and short hike at Cornalee's Bridge, with coffee and sandwiches, followed by a turn to Largs, where we split up for shopping and a visit to the VikingR! exhibition. Unfortunately you can't just see the exhibition, you have to follow a tour, and some of us found ice cream and shopping more alluring when faced with having to catch a tour time.
E was worried that she had only been able to check the cat once a day and that getting her medicine only once a day was taking it's toll on her - but we were met by a fluffy and contented cat, who none the less gave us a good telling off for being away for so long. She has been glued to us for the last two days, and complains to the other when one of us leaves for the shop or a walksie.
The rooms were pretty enough, and in classic B&B style the loo and bath were communal, which wasn't as much of an inconvenience as I expected, since we had a room furthest down a corridor and most people went to the more central bathrooms, leaving the ones at the end of the corridor more or less to us.
The best bit was the library though. One of the most extensive theological collections in Britain - which didn't fuss me that much - and a collection of donated literature, both factual and fictual, which was available for loan to your room. I read Cold Comfort Farm, which I had previously only seen as a very enjoyable film with adorable Kate Beckinsale.
With Hawarden as our base camp, we met up with Mother in Law2's aunt in Mold and with her as our guide we saw Llangollen, The Horse Shoe Pass and Snowdon.
Auntie B was the kind of little old English Lady that authors think they make up, but that actually exist. She was one of the most amazing people I have ever met. Sweet, kind, indestructible and more up to date with current events than I can boast of being. Cardigan, plaid skirt and bobbed hair, the whole shebang, and a personality that would make anyone just fall in love with her. She had stories from being evacuated during the war that had us in stitches - you kept wanting to hug her and never let her go. If only you could adopt aunties!
After Hawarden, Mold and Auntie B - whom I didn't want to leave at all - it was off back to England. After a lunch stop at a brilliant mountain Inn, that turned out to be the in-official watering hole of the Mountain Rescue, where I had the best Plowman's Lunch ever (I still have wet dreams about the selection of cheeses) we persisted to Chester, where we stayed in the elegedly ghost ridden The Pied Bull. No ghosts - not that I expected any, official skeptic as I am - but half of hour company could boast four poster bed. That half wasn't us, but en suite at least gave the opportunity for a well earned shower.
We decided to go directly home - with a few stops for touristing on the way - so as not to impose on our impromptu cat sitter too long. The original cat sitter got very ill just before we left, but darling E stepped up to the plate and even managed to give our little mess her medicines, which we really didn't feel we could ask from someone who volunteered in the last minute, but which E none the less managed to negotiate down the feline gullet with guile and liver paté.
As I was trying to read the map in What to See in the Lake District I stumbled upon what must be the absolute must see of the Lake District - the Pencil Museum of Keswick. I immediately realized that this was something that must be seen. It's just one of those things that are too nerdy not to do when you have the chance. You have to do it, so you can say you've done it - like reading the phone book on a Saturday night. Geek points, dontcha know?
One does not simply silly walk into Mordor, but it works quite well at the Pencil Museum. Apparently Keswick was once the proud producer of almost all the pencils in Europe, due to the rich findings of graphite in the surrounding mountains. Up until some ingenious soul decided to mine and sell the stuff, it was mainly used for marking sheep, but during the 16th century the pencil was born making the area rich as hell. Apparently the Michaelangelo school of art held its lessons with Keswick Pencils. Soon graphite became so expensive, a black market was born: highwaymen would rob the mine wagons, and Dutch merchant would smuggle the graphite out of Britain on donkey-back. - but it was not for artistic reasons that the Black Gold of Cumbria became such a black market item, it was because the graphite was mighty useful for fashioning canon ball molds, and rustproofing various weapons. So it was not long before the state intervened, and red coats were sent to Cumbria to guard the mines. Soon all the graphite became government property and no pencils were made, only canon balls. This in turn resulted in French ingenuity to come up with an alloy of low grade graphite and clay which serviced as pencils as well, and when the war was over, no one wanted real graphite pencils anymore, since the new kind was cheaper. Keswick dwindled into a market town - these days a tourist town that functions as base camp for hikers and cyclists - of a bit more than 4000 inhabitants - the town hall and tourist centre is accurately named Moot Hall. Pencils are still manufactured by Derwent Enterprises (named after the nearby Derwent Water) but these days the main product is artistic coloured pencils that aren't graphite at all.
The two funniest parts of the tour was the bit of trivia that imparted that the Americans spent tens of thousands of dollars trying to construct a pen that could write in space, whereas the Soviet Kosmonauts simply brought pencils. The other was the "Worlds Longest Pencil" which was A: not a pencil, but a yellow crayon pencil and B: not actually that either since it was a sculpture of a pencil. You could clearly see where the yellow "writey" bit had been inexpertly glued to the not even wooden pencil - not quite fitting. I laughed quite a bit at that.
We then had the inlaws here for two days, using yesterday for an outing and short hike at Cornalee's Bridge, with coffee and sandwiches, followed by a turn to Largs, where we split up for shopping and a visit to the VikingR! exhibition. Unfortunately you can't just see the exhibition, you have to follow a tour, and some of us found ice cream and shopping more alluring when faced with having to catch a tour time.
E was worried that she had only been able to check the cat once a day and that getting her medicine only once a day was taking it's toll on her - but we were met by a fluffy and contented cat, who none the less gave us a good telling off for being away for so long. She has been glued to us for the last two days, and complains to the other when one of us leaves for the shop or a walksie.