In the Footsteps of Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter - England/Scotland with my Son (2)

Hi there!

Part 2 of the ramble I took some years ago around the North of England/Scotland. Enjoy!

23 juni 2013 om 16:11

Hiking in The Lake District has been our our 'to do list' for years. So when we finally came round to travelling to Windermere in May of 2013, my son Wibe and I were looking forward to it enormously.

We weren't sad to leave grubby Norwich, and the weather helped by being cold but dry. The train didn't run this Sunday, and we were herded into a bus to take us to Peterborough, which was soon filled to capacity by burly men having to travel up to Scotland.

Our destination was Windermere, which we would reach by train from Peterborough, via Leeds, Carlisle, and Oxenholme.

We only had to wait 10 minutes for the fast train to Leeds, and saw the landscape slowly but surely change. Green it was, and green it stayed, but it became more and more unkempt and rough at the edges.

In Leeds we nearly made a huge mistake by boarding the train to London, which arrived at the Carlisle platform only minutes before our train without anyone announcing anything. It was our sheer luck that we overheard two women talking, and quickly jumped out again.

Whilst Wibe dozed (he always falls asleep on trains) and the cheerful hubbub of the British voices around me faded to a background buzz, I was glued to the window. The hills became higher and wilder, and the only living things I saw were thousands of weathered sheep and one large bird of prey. 

The train passed small grey slated villages, and there was snow on the highest peaks. And dozens of waterfalls splashed down into brooks and burns. Sometimes we went into a tunnel, only to speed out of it into thick mist, and then going into the next tunnel and coming out of it into bright daylight again.

It was absolutely gorgeous. We travelled over brick arched bridges, spanning deep valleys, and I expected Voldemort to attack any minute.

At Carlisle we barely had time for a wee and a cup of much needed coffee in the quaint restaurant before we needed to be on the train to Oxenholme. And there we had to change trains yet again, this making it the 9th hour of our rail journey. By the time we reached Windermere, we were terribly tired. 

We walked downhill from Windermere Station, and entered the first hotel we saw, The Queen's Hotel, hoping they had B&B facilities. The bar was hopping with animated punters, and the barman burst out laughing when I asked him for a room.

'We don't do rooms, love'. But...it says 'hotel' on your front?

'Yeah, funny that, I can't understand why that sign is up there. Try a bit further down the road, there's B&Bs there.'

We saw a B&B in a tiny Victorian House which appealed to us, Lingmoor Guest House, and were welcomed by Paula, who turned out to be a wonderful hostess.

The next day we took a bus to Derwent Water, and walked for hours and hours along that lake, and Grasmere Lake, and Rydal Lake back to Windermere Lake, meeting lambs and sheep and old ladies who rushed up hills with their walking sticks and small pooches. 

But that's another story. I have provided you with a link to The Lake District from Above

Never Trust a Man with a Nappy on his Head! - England/Scotland with my son (1)

I've decided to re-post my very first hiking saga for you, since most of you will have missed this, due to the fact I didn't have that many readers back in the day...it comes in installments, so keep your eyes peeled.

Enjoy!

I've wanted to take a sentimental journey to Norwich for years. 

But you know how it is: no time, or no money, or no time and money.

Finally, this April, time, money, opportunity and my son all happened to coincide.

 I booked a ferry trip to Harwich, a train ticket to everywhere (I'll explain 

about this later) and packed lightly.

We arrived in Harwich after an uneventful night, and found a delighted ticket 

seller at Harwich station. He was only too happy to stamp our BritRail passes 

and told us to swop trains and platforms at Manningtree.

Norwich used to be a haunt of mine when I was in my teens and early twenties, 

and I hadn't been back there since. My memories of this Norfolk city are pleasant. 

The Close, the ancient Cathedral grounds, is rated amongst the most beautiful 

and un-spoilt of England. So I felt a happy anticipation when we left the station 

and walked along the river walk to the Cathedral.

Some hours, and a visit to the Keep and Sheringham Beach later, 

we needed to find ourselves a bed for the night. The first four B&B's had 

no vacancies. We walked uphill and found a hotel which did B&B. It looked a 

bit shabby, but clean, and (quite important) it had two single rooms for us for 

the price of a double, and they even threw in breakfast for free.

We decided to walk back to the station to get ourselves some sandwiches for 

dinner, and when we had almost reached our hotel, we passed a group of young

men coming from that direction. When they had passed us, we looked back. 

Did one of them really wear a Pamper on his head? Yes.

I tried to explain the quaint practice of 'Stag Night' to my son. We had a laugh 

about it. Silly Englishmen.

Our day had started at 5 am, so we were ready for bed at 10 pm. We had only 

just wished each other a good night when an almighty banging and shouting 

started up next door. Our two single rooms were the bookends to the Stag Boy's 

room, you could say. He needed a lot of Dutch courage. The shouting, screaming,

 singing, counting 'one, two, three, bottoms up', and eventually the howling fights 

and violent throwing up lasted until 4 am. We got 10 minutes sleep, then a fight 

started under our window.

We needed to be on a bus to Peterborough at 9.40, so we needed to get up early 

anyway. 

Somehow, Norwich didn't live up to its memories.

The Frustrations of a Newby Music Film Maker

Good afternoon to you, where ever you are!
You have missed me...at least, if you are a regular reader, you have. Otherwise you haven't...duh!
The reason for my absence is that I have been very busy with my regular work (let's not talk about that - although fulfilling it is extremely stressful at times and non-eventful at most others. I enjoy it. I like my pupils. It brings in the veggies. Full stop) and with my passion: singing.

I have mentioned that I am a singer/the singer (opinions differ here. I like to think I am THE singer) in three set-ups: a cover band consisting of 5 other musicians of a certain age and myself, and a duo consisting of my son in law (gorgeously young) and myself, and a jam session band consisting of  20 or so very different musicians who drop in or out and sort of do their thing - preferably at the same time as the others.
And as of yesterday I have been drafted to be the singer in a jazz band as well.
Hey-ho!
Sounds great. Is great, really, it is a lot of fun!

But: and here it comes...I have been toiling to upload a song to let you all listen to what I am working on. I've recorded it on my iPhone, using iMovie, and uploading a load of my own original photos to give you something to look at whilst listening to me singing a song.
So far, so good. It's finished, it's as good as it gets. And it's floating in cyber space...or is right now being performed on Pluto. 
But for the life of me I cannot seem to import it into my Mac. Or export it to YouTube or even FB (I mean..geez, FB takes anything, right?).
My iPhone keeps informing me that I do not have enough storing space. Well...fiddle-dee, I have space, since I've removed 3/4 of my stock of photos and songs. But my phone thinks differently.
So, clever clogs that I am, I thought to import it directly into my iMove on the Mac. Right? Nothing doing.
So there it is: a perfect little 4 minute song with images, lounging in my phone and determined to stay there and not be shifted.

I got soooooo frustrated!
Usually I routinely upload onto YouTube and then give you a link. Doesn't work.

So you will simply have to take it from me. I have tried. Honestly I have.
If there is anyone out there who knows how to fix this, please reply in the comment section.
In the meantime, I will keep on singing. 
It's just that I will have to sit on my hands in order not to throw my i-whatsits through the plate glass window!

UPDATE 2/27/2017: In the meantime I have managed to upload the song onto my Facebook page...yeah! If you are curious: the name is Song Smith, the photo a painting of a lizzard, the song is called Cry Me A River.

Making my hiking plans for the summer holidays, folks!

Hi there, all you hikers, ramblers, amblers and speed-walkers.
Remember me?

Taken in the Derbyshire Hills, 2016  (©R.Grashoff)

I'm your friendly chubby outdoor enthusiast, making her rambling plans for this Summer. 

This sounds very straightforward, but it absolutely is anything but!

Where to go, when you have so many places on your list and little money?

Iceland is an option I have to forego, due to the high cost.

The West Coast of Canada - ditto.

New Zealand ...say no more...

Italy and Greece, gorgeous, but far too hot for me in Summer!

I have considered Austria, Germany, and Denmark, but have returned to my home-away-from-home...England.

Taken along the Dove, 2016 (© R. Grashoff)

First of all, due to their Brexit the Euro is giving me a few more Pounds. Always handy. And let's face it, I adore this country for its wonderful rambling mindset. Brits are natural ramblers! I'll never forget frail octogenarians cheerfully passing me at speed on the hills of The Lake District. And the thousands of miles of hilly footpaths are sheer heaven for a Dutchie used to flat land and barbed wire everywhere.

So, my plans.

I have already walked the coastal paths from Dover to Land's End, so that's not what I want to do this time, but whilst doing that, I took a quick detour by train to visit Bath, and this gave me a definite taste for more!

I have a taste for history, preferably ancient history, and so far have not visited Stonehenge or Glastonbury and this time I will. 

The Derbyshire hills, 2016 (© R. Grashoff)

We will make our way by car from Dover (our port of entry) taking the coastal road (A259) towards Brighton. This will be our first stop I think, as I am taking my daughter and she will love the Royal Pavilion.

From Brighton we will head inland towards Bath. But my aim is to walk and see things, so my little old car is simply a means of getting places and will have lots of deserved rest.

We will then take the A27/M27 to Salisbury, and from there on will concentrate on visiting a rough circle consisting of Stonehenge, Glastonbury, Bath, Bradford-on-Avon and Avebury, making the latter our departing port for taking the M4 back towards London and hence the M20 back to Dover.

Depending on finances, weather and roads (i.e. how long does the driving actually take to get places? I remember navigating those roads in the South very well - it seemed to take forever) we might take a detour up towards the Cotswolds.

And the main aim is to walk as much as possible.

I cannot wait! Oh...and it is only February 1st when you are reading this! Months and months of hard graft and motivating young men to get through first!

But the thought of the green English hills and the wonderful footpaths to ancient sites and gorgeous towns will sustain me.

obviously, this isn't mine, I plucked it out of cyberspace

60,700+ Readers: Words Fail Me (not really)

Good morning to you, all over our globe.

No, I'm not gloating or crowing my victory, at least...not intentionally.
But I want you to know that I am a little chuffed that more than 60,700 people have read my posts during the years that I have been writing them.
Thank you.

Writers want to be read.
So: thank you!!!

Viggo Presents His Woman...And that would be me.

Hiya fans,

This is a combined effort from both me, Viggo and Song, his woman.

She likes to sing; I like to chill. We both like me ...a lot!
And now we like Bowie as well. Well, she does...I'm still undecided most of the time.

Anyway, we've made a video.
Here is the link:

Viggo presents his woman.

Hope you'll like it. It is caterwauling at its best, I think!

Viggo's Blog: Life Without the Mutt.

Hiya fans, Viggo here!

Just an update on Life Post-Gina.
Would you know that I actually miss the old smelly mutt? And I miss our walkies late at night even more...Somehow strutting around the neighbourhood with your dog in tow is way more cool than just...walking.

My mates have adjusted to Bowie and me being dog-less. Big Black casually remarked that us not having our dog meant that some of the other toms a street away now thought that spraying the front door could be done...but that him and Mate had put a stop to that very fast. But Nose nastily said that Bowie should have less attitude, as Gina wasn't there to defend him. Nose should beware of his own attitude...Bowie is a young brat, but he's MY brat!

Apart from all that, it's all go over here in our household. My woman has taken the dog bed out of the living room and has put it out in the garden. She speaks of converting it into a raised vegetable bed, as it is a shame to scrap a nice piece of expensive wooden furniture.
Hm...I don't care for salad greens. And I wonder how she plans to keep the cats from pooping in it! Geez, I hope she isn't counting on me and Bowie to keep the other cats out of the back garden! That would make our spring and summer very stressful indeed.

Bowie has grown...a lot...He is now just as tall as myself, only slimmer. 
We get along most of the time.
But sometimes he gets these funny moods, he races around the room then and up and down the stairs, and he wants me to wrestle him. Hah! I win every time, I only have to lay down on top of him.
That can be a bit tiring.
Right, that's all. Not a lot of news I'm afraid. So I'll leave you with a pressing matter:

I bet you haven't. Good! I don't like being kissed. Bowie does, but he's weird. No, I like a nice, gentle stroking from my head down to my tail. Not too long, mind. I'll tell you when to stop by biting you, okay?
Have a nice Sunday, tar rah!