Shall the shades of Pemberley be thus polluted?
This part of the country is very pretty. This means when I am ruling the world it will be allowed to continue to exist & I may even come and visit. And possibly have a palace here or something. There are hills and little villages and sheep (which I am not convinced are evil, the Squeen to the contrary) and indeed horses and ponies and lots of green. And sky. Though less sky than on the fens, for obvious reasons. Liss' mummy drove us to Lyme Park for the day yesterday (this time resisting the temptation to cross pavements in the car, oooh yes, she's a wild one you know) which was very exciting. And indeed amusing.
There were scads and scads of people there (mostly larking about the Park itself, I think) which meant the elderly mad were out in full force and indeed dayglo gilets directing traffic. We had a scrummy picnic on arrival, watched by a pair of bluetits who were lurking in a nearby tree. Then we ambled (or hobbled, according to individual taste) up to the house. This was when the fun began, as we tried to sort out borrowing a wheelchair. Asked the person issuing tickets & were sent to see someone else who was fantastically unhelpful & bibbled quite madly. Eventually we managed to work out there was a wheelchair in the house, should I be able to get up the steps into the building. Which were not to steep nor too numerous, so I did so.
When we had got into the entrance hall, the first thing Liss' mummy and I both noticed was that the only way I would be able to get round any of the hall was to climb another flight of steps. Which was possibly not the plan. And the volunteers in the hall were thrown into complete panic by the request for a wheelchair and in fact had to get a nice-young-man who actually had something akin to a clue to come and sort things out. After forty years, a wheelchair was located & parked a bit precariously at the top of the stairs. As we went off, one of the elderly mad said I'd not be able to get up to the Long Gallery, but that Liss and her mummy could go up & leave me at the bottom of the stairs "to talk to people". Liss' mummy was not overly impressed by this suggestion, you will doubtless be astonished to hear... There was further faff actually getting me into the wheelchair & then we set off...
The drawing room is gorgeous, if a bit dark - heavy leaded windows with some stained glass, presumably including Sir Peers & his faithful mastiff, although we could not actually locate it & suspect it was being hidden by curtains. Alas. We went round all of the first floor and there was coveting (the alcove in the library) and admiring (various paintings and assorted clocks) and rather a lot of hysteria (NT volunteers). We trundled round, and Liss' mummy only steered me into the one radiator, so it was all fine, and there was lots of interesting stuff: like the family arms being an actual arm after someone lopped off the arm of a French bloke who'd stealthed the King's standard back in the day. However, it was really hard to actually get the chair round lots of the place. Evidently I am more than aware of issues to do with conservation of historic buildings as regards access issues, but random rugs are possibly as necessary as they are really in keeping, and were making things really quite tricky. And the volunteers seemed to have very little idea about how to help. *headdesk* Between the woman who looked at me indulgently and made a comment about how children never change (rah rah rah rant rah and she so nearly got a brief lecture on changing constructions of childhood, never mind an icy explanation that I have not been a child for the last five and a bit years) and the one who looked at me in utter condescension while I was talking to Liss about clocks & the idea of being able to capture & thus potentially manipulate time, I was not filled with the being-impressed. However, a prize should go to the man who told us we'd gone the wrong way... and then started a completely incoherent explanation, muttered about how someone else had also been sent the wrong way & kept flailing his arms at us. It was special. And Liss and I got told off for collapsing into laughter.
We eventually made it out of the house through a window. Well, one of the long variety. However, this was only because we'd spotted it for ourselves earlier & made the leap of reasoning with the "help" of flaily-arm-man's "explanation"... It was a special visit. We then trundled round the garden (sadly no ramp to the glass house so I had to admire from afar - must invest in a telescope) and down to the lake. Alas, no Mr Darcy. *sighs* Lots of pretty flowers and a good view of the outside of the house though. Liss' mummy did sterling work pushing me round as well. It is probably a good thing I am not any bigger than I am, frankly, as there were some quite steep slopes involved. At one point I did think I might be going to roll away into the lake, but luckily no such tragedy occured. Getting out also involved having to find someone to open a gate for us & then stand there helplessly as we tried to get the wheelchair over a random-bit-of-metal-not-covered-by-gravel-put-there-to-spite-us. The whole thing was a bit exhausting...
Lyme Park was in fact such a fatiguing experience that Liss and I both went and had a nap when we got in, getting up only to have dinner. And pancakes. And then stay up too late. Possibly again. But there was cocoa. Which has to help...
Today was spent in a leisurely fashion. I have Easter socks from Liss' parents. One pair are stripy and fabulous & the other have glittery bees on. My life is so much the richer. Ooh yes. And there was a brief stroll this morning & the most hugesome proper lunch & also baking: I have been a busy kitchen minion this weekend, chopping and mixing and stirring and so on. I want a badge, yes, yes I do...
There were scads and scads of people there (mostly larking about the Park itself, I think) which meant the elderly mad were out in full force and indeed dayglo gilets directing traffic. We had a scrummy picnic on arrival, watched by a pair of bluetits who were lurking in a nearby tree. Then we ambled (or hobbled, according to individual taste) up to the house. This was when the fun began, as we tried to sort out borrowing a wheelchair. Asked the person issuing tickets & were sent to see someone else who was fantastically unhelpful & bibbled quite madly. Eventually we managed to work out there was a wheelchair in the house, should I be able to get up the steps into the building. Which were not to steep nor too numerous, so I did so.
When we had got into the entrance hall, the first thing Liss' mummy and I both noticed was that the only way I would be able to get round any of the hall was to climb another flight of steps. Which was possibly not the plan. And the volunteers in the hall were thrown into complete panic by the request for a wheelchair and in fact had to get a nice-young-man who actually had something akin to a clue to come and sort things out. After forty years, a wheelchair was located & parked a bit precariously at the top of the stairs. As we went off, one of the elderly mad said I'd not be able to get up to the Long Gallery, but that Liss and her mummy could go up & leave me at the bottom of the stairs "to talk to people". Liss' mummy was not overly impressed by this suggestion, you will doubtless be astonished to hear... There was further faff actually getting me into the wheelchair & then we set off...
The drawing room is gorgeous, if a bit dark - heavy leaded windows with some stained glass, presumably including Sir Peers & his faithful mastiff, although we could not actually locate it & suspect it was being hidden by curtains. Alas. We went round all of the first floor and there was coveting (the alcove in the library) and admiring (various paintings and assorted clocks) and rather a lot of hysteria (NT volunteers). We trundled round, and Liss' mummy only steered me into the one radiator, so it was all fine, and there was lots of interesting stuff: like the family arms being an actual arm after someone lopped off the arm of a French bloke who'd stealthed the King's standard back in the day. However, it was really hard to actually get the chair round lots of the place. Evidently I am more than aware of issues to do with conservation of historic buildings as regards access issues, but random rugs are possibly as necessary as they are really in keeping, and were making things really quite tricky. And the volunteers seemed to have very little idea about how to help. *headdesk* Between the woman who looked at me indulgently and made a comment about how children never change (rah rah rah rant rah and she so nearly got a brief lecture on changing constructions of childhood, never mind an icy explanation that I have not been a child for the last five and a bit years) and the one who looked at me in utter condescension while I was talking to Liss about clocks & the idea of being able to capture & thus potentially manipulate time, I was not filled with the being-impressed. However, a prize should go to the man who told us we'd gone the wrong way... and then started a completely incoherent explanation, muttered about how someone else had also been sent the wrong way & kept flailing his arms at us. It was special. And Liss and I got told off for collapsing into laughter.
We eventually made it out of the house through a window. Well, one of the long variety. However, this was only because we'd spotted it for ourselves earlier & made the leap of reasoning with the "help" of flaily-arm-man's "explanation"... It was a special visit. We then trundled round the garden (sadly no ramp to the glass house so I had to admire from afar - must invest in a telescope) and down to the lake. Alas, no Mr Darcy. *sighs* Lots of pretty flowers and a good view of the outside of the house though. Liss' mummy did sterling work pushing me round as well. It is probably a good thing I am not any bigger than I am, frankly, as there were some quite steep slopes involved. At one point I did think I might be going to roll away into the lake, but luckily no such tragedy occured. Getting out also involved having to find someone to open a gate for us & then stand there helplessly as we tried to get the wheelchair over a random-bit-of-metal-not-covered-by-gravel-put-there-to-spite-us. The whole thing was a bit exhausting...
Lyme Park was in fact such a fatiguing experience that Liss and I both went and had a nap when we got in, getting up only to have dinner. And pancakes. And then stay up too late. Possibly again. But there was cocoa. Which has to help...
Today was spent in a leisurely fashion. I have Easter socks from Liss' parents. One pair are stripy and fabulous & the other have glittery bees on. My life is so much the richer. Ooh yes. And there was a brief stroll this morning & the most hugesome proper lunch & also baking: I have been a busy kitchen minion this weekend, chopping and mixing and stirring and so on. I want a badge, yes, yes I do...